RWBY: An AU Tale
by lunarsoldier
Summary: Beacon Academy: The training and proving grounds of Huntsman and Huntresses of Remnant... and full of secrets. One involving the first year student Markus Frude, a mysterious figure amidst a sea of fresh, young faces. From where does he hail? Why does he fight without a weapon? And why, despite being a first year, does he know where everything is at? AU tale involving an OC.
1. Awkward First Times

Markus Frude leaned out his window, observing the great airships that were bringing the new students in for the year. "It begins again," he said.

"Yes it does," a voice from behind him replied, "but since you are finally of age, you will be joining them."

Markus turned. "Will I be facing the Emerald Forest with them?"

"No. You've already proven yourself in that regard."

"What about a team?"

"For the time being, you will be your own team. We were fortunate this year. This incoming group is cleanly divisible by four." His sipped his drink. "Also, for other reasons you already know."

Markus nodded. "I understand, Professor Ozpin."

"But, that does not mean you have to sit up here for the first day. _She_ would want you to go down and mingle with your new classmates." He took another sip. "Perhaps show them around. See who you can meet."

"Just like last year?"

"Minus the destruction of one of the spires, thank you."

Markus held out his hands. "Hey, like I said, that was all on team CFVY."

"Then why did you accept the full blame?"

"Because it was my idea, and I didn't realize that Velvet would be so timid."

"Still," Ozpin said as he stood, "they did take quite a liking to you afterward."

"That they did." Mark moved to his dresser. "I'll do my best to keep everything intact this year."

"That is all I ask." Professor Ozpin let himself out the door, leaving Markus in solitude once again.

Markus opened the top drawer of his dresser, revealing his collection of dogi. _Perhaps one of calming colors._

* * *

"All I'm saying is that motion sickness is a much more common problem than people let on," Jaune said to Ruby as they walked along the stone path.

"Look, I'm sorry, but 'Vomit Boy' was the first thing that came to mind."

"Oh yeah? Well what if I called you 'Crater Face?'"

"Hey, that explosion was an accident!"

"Well the name's Jaune Arc! Short, sweet, rolls off the tongue. Ladies love it."

Ruby paused. "Do they?"

"They will! I-I mean I hope they will. I think my mom always said… nevermind."

Ruby gave an uneasy laugh. "So… I got this thing," she said as she unclasped and extended her weapon.

"Whoa, is that a scythe?" Jaune asked in amazement.

"It's also a customizable, high impact sniper rifle."

"A wha…"

"She said it's also a gun," a voice joined in, coming from the far side of the path. Jaune and Ruby looked to see a man of paler complexion, wearing a forest green dogi, blue short sleeved undershirt, with black soft boots. The man turned, his golden wheat blonde hair shimmering in the afternoon sun, dark blue eyes studying the pair intently, a pronounced red scar that ran from his scalp, to between his eyes, and under his left eye, following the arch of his cheek.

"That's exactly what I was going to say!" Ruby exclaimed.

"Formidable, intimidating, and adjustable," the new voice said as he studied Ruby's weapon. "A fine peacekeeping implement."

"Yep! I let it do the talking most of the time." Ruby collapsed her scythe. "What about you, Jaune?"

"Oh! I have this," Jaune drew his sword out of its scabbard, "and this!" His left forearm came forward, revealing a collapsible shield.

"Oh, that's cool," Ruby said, waiting for Jaune to continue demonstrating his arsenal. "Do they do anything else?"

"Well, the shield folds away, making it lighter and easier to carry!"

The other man raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't it weigh the same even when -"

"Yeah, it does," Jaune said with an exhausted sigh.

"But… your weapon," he continued, eyeing the sword. "May I?" he asked, extending his hands.

"Sure." Jaune put the sword in his hands. "It's a hand-me-down. It was my great grandfather's when he fought in the war."

"Oh, no. This is no simple hand-me-down," the unnamed said, admiring the temper of the blade by sliding a palm down the blade flat. "This -" he gave the sword two swings, cutting an "x" into the air, "- is an heirloom… nay, a relic." He put forward the point of the blade, giving a thrust. He feet glided across the ground as he slid toward a nearby tree. He stopped just short of making contact, bringing the sword back to eye-level. "Look at the folds. Never have I seen steel hold so tight."

"Well, I'm glad you like it," Jaune said as the wielder walked back to the pair.

"Like it? This weapon should be under glass, a testament to a simpler time."

Jaune took his weapon and placed it back in its scabbard. "You seem to be a swordsman yourself. What do you use… uh… I never got your name."

The unnamed man smiled, bringing his hands back into his resting pose; together at his heart, with only his index fingers extended. "My name is Markus, and my preferred weapon… is no weapon."

Ruby and Jaune's mouths dropped at what they heard. "No weapon!?"

"Yes, I know, it's strange," Markus said calmly. He held out the upsides of his palms, arms by his side. "My mentor trained me in such a way, that I would never need such an implement. Speed is all I need, and that is reflected in -" he gestured to his attire, "- my dogi, or outfit. It is specifically designed for speed and flexibility. That being said, it is unarmored. Because of this, I require to be quick on my feet, and it is best I do not have a weapon throwing me off-balance."

"You must have had quite the teacher," Ruby said. "Perhaps we can spar sometime and you can show me what you can do."

Markus smiled and nodded. "I had the best mentor, and I would very much like to test my mettle against yours. By the by, I got your name was Jaune," Markus pointed at the other blonde, "but who are you?" he asked, pointing to Ruby.

"Oh, I'm Ruby Rose. Nice to meet you."

"Uh, guys, where are we going?" Jaune asked, now unfamiliar with the surroundings.

"I dunno. I was following you," Ruby said with a panicked tone.

"Don't worry. I know exactly where we are." Mark motioned to the path behind them. "Come. We grow tardy for Professor Ozpin's introductory speech."

As the trio approached the common hall, a voice called from across the courtyard. "Hey, Markus!"

Markus turned to face the caller, and held out a waving hand. "Hey, Coco! Good to see you, again!"

"Haven't destroyed any spires yet, have you?" a larger man who was following Coco yelled.

"Not yet, Yatsuhashi! But there's still daylight left!" Markus yelled back.

A Faunus girl following Yatsuhashi also stopped as he did. She gave a wave as well, but not as pronounced as the others. "Hey, Markus!" she called out, notably quieter than the others.

"Hey, Velvet," Mark said back to her with a gentle wave. "It's good to see you again."

The three on the other side disappeared into another building as Ruby, Jaune, and Markus continued toward the main spire. "Who were they?" Ruby asked.

"That was three of the four members of Team C-F-V-Y, or 'coffee' for short," Markus said as they crossed the threshold into the main antechamber, already filled with students. "Fox must have gone ahead of them. They're a second year team."

"Wait," Ruby stopped her walk to mentally process. "What year are you?"

"One."

"How do you know a second year team then?"

Applause filled the room. "Another story for another time," Markus loudly said above the noise.

"Ruby!" another woman's voice called. Ruby turned to face the familiar sound of her sister's voice. She waved.

"Well," Ruby turned back to Markus, "it was good meeting you. I'll see you around."

"I'm sure you will," Markus said as she turned to leave. Markus then faced Jaune. "You gonna go join them?"

"Huh? Oh!" was his reaction as he sped toward the others. Markus couldn't stifle a small laugh.

Markus himself brought his attention to the raised area that acted as a stage. Professor Ozpin started his speech with his usual "in search of knowledge" rhetoric, and the predicted stunted silence that followed as he reached his "wasted energy" part of his speech. But it was true. "Energy needs to be focused to be used the most effectively," he had once said to him. "That is what we do here."

The speech ended, and the shuffling of feet toward the exit told Markus to follow suit. Just outside, Ruby caught up with him. "Hey, Markus!"

"Ruby Rose. Good to see you again."

She laughed. "Even though it was just five minutes ago?"

"It always warms my heart to see my friends again, regardless of the timespan."

"Wow," the taller blonde accompanying her admired, "if that tongue of yours gets any sharper, it'll have to be classified as a weapon."

Markus hummed and smiled. "It's already illegal in Atlas." They shared in a laugh. "I don't believe we've met."

"Nope!" she said with cheer. "I'm Yang! Ruby's sister."

Markus gave the two girls a quick back and forth comparison. There were some minor similarities in their faces, but summarized they must have come from two different mothers. "It is nice to meet you."

"See? We haven't even been here a day, and you're already plus one friend."

Ruby sighed. "I'm pretty sure that Weiss counts as a negative friend, so I'm back at zero."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," Yang told her sister with a light punch. "Strangers are just friends you haven't met yet. And this place is full of 'em."

"Quite so," Markus began, "but until then, you have had a big day today, and face a bigger one tomorrow. You should rest."

"Right," Yang said, grabbing her sister's hood. "Which way is the ballroom?"

"Just passed the second spire there," Markus said as he pointed in its general direction.

"Thanks!"

As Ruby was being dragged away by Yang, she saw Markus turn back toward the main hall when he made a sudden stop. She followed his direction to see the other girl from the Dust incident, the one in black, meet his gaze. She looked away, then back up sheepishly before he made his final approach. He said a few words into her ear before walking again. The girl stood a little taller than before, following their path.

* * *

Markus stood at his window, watching the shattered moon crest over the mountains. He sipped on his night tea. "I did manage to meet your star pupil."

"Ruby Rose?"

"Yes."

"What are your first impressions?"

"She seems to be a capable fighter. Slight timidation, and a bit young, but time has a funny way of fixing that."

"Team leader material?"

Markus took another sip. "I leave that judgement up to you. You've always been a better judge of character than I am."

Professor Ozpin stood. "I did see that your little experiment came to fruition."

"It is an outcome better than I had even hoped."

"What could you sense, this time around?"

"There is still doubt in her heart, but it is not nearly as pronounced as it once was."

"Keep in mind that the only reason I approved her entry was based on your personal council."

"You have nothing to fear. I sensed no deceit. She is on the redeeming path, but it begs a question of why she hides her Faunus heritage behind that bow."

"Perhaps for her sake, or the sake of others. But she cannot hide it forever."

"You are not wrong." Markus was about to ask Ozpin another question when he sensed he was no longer in the room. Spinning confirmed his assumption. He gave a huff for a laugh, went through his nightly routine of kneeling before the moon, and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

Phyrra awoke to the sound of birds singing, and the snores of several other students. She sat up and glanced out a window to see the Sun had not yet risen over the horizon, but the glow of its light revealed a student was already outside.

A ways outside, nearing a cliff, with a mat roll tucked under an arm.

Curiosity got the better of her, and she quickly roused from her bed roll and into the cool morning air.

The male student was sat upon a mat, facing eastward over the valley. His arms and legs were neatly tucked away, and as she approached, she could hear him taking long, deep breaths. He was also wearing an outfit she had never seen before.

Something about her step must have alerted him to her presence, as he gave his head a small turn. "Good morning," he said with an eye cracked.

"Oh, hello," Phyrra said nervously. "I didn't mean to interrupt your… activity."

Markus stood and fully faced Phyrra. "Think nothing of it. I can't seem to bring myself to focus this morning anyway." He gave the newcomer a quick study. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you."

"No, I think this is our first time." She held out a hand.

"Well, it's very nice to meet you," Markus said as he took her hand. "Markus Frude. And who might you be?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You… don't recognize me?"

Markus gave a confused eye. "Uhm... please forgive my ignorance, but should I?"

"Have you heard of the Mistral Region Tournament?"

Markus shook his head. "I'm familiar with the region, but not the tournament itself, no."

"Oh, well," Phyrra pushed back an errant hair from her face, "I was the winner of the tournament last year, and the three previous years." She looked away bashfully. "I may have had some endorsement deals with various products."

"I see," Markus said. "What kind of products?"

"Mainly a breakfast cereal line," she said, looking back. "The cereal isn't very good for you, but it helped pay for the expense to get to Beacon."

"Ah. We do what we must in order to achieve our goals and dreams," Markus said, facing back eastward. "I tend to stay out of the processed grains aisle. My body demands a breakfast that's a bit… hearty-er, if that's even a word."

Phyrra gave a small laugh. "Well, my name is Phyrra Nikos. And I must say, it is actually nice to not be recognized for a change."

Markus gave her a caring smile. "Growing tired of the spotlight?"

"It's hard," she started with a sigh, "because people put you upon a pedestal without even saying a word to you." She clasped her hands together. "It makes it difficult to relate to others when people see you as their 'hero.'"

Markus turned to Phyrra, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Well, I consider you my friend, nothing more, and nothing less."

She gave a happy sigh. "Thank you. You have no idea just how much that means." She herself turned eastward. "I'm relieved to see someone up and about already. I was worried I would be the only one here who would be an early riser."

Markus laughed. "Blame it on my mentor. She was always up before the Sun, which meant _I_ also was always up then." The Sun crested over the horizon, and he raised both open hands to the sky. "But I suppose it's not all that bad. Mornings are beautiful here."

Phyrra gave Markus a quick study. "You are not from Vale, are you?"

Markus shook his head. "What gave me away?"

"Well, you do have a fairer complexion, for one."

A puff of air came through Markus's nose. "You should have seen me when I got off the boat. I bet I glowed."

"I am sure it was not _that_ bad."

"I was the color of a cooked crustacean after ten minutes."

"Oh," Phyrra said in awe. "Well, at least you aren't as pale as you were!"

"Quite so," Markus said as he brought his arms back down. "There are many things I have had to become acclimated to."

"Like what?" she asked inquisitively.

"There are too many to list, and I doubt that we have that much time this morning." Markus stood toward the Sun, arms to his side, extended palms facing outward. "Excuse me," he said before uttering words Phyrra didn't recognize. No longer than ten seconds passed before Markus broke his still stance and began collecting his things.

"Did I interrupt something I shouldn't have?" Phyrra asked.

"No," Markus said, standing back upright. "Just a little morning ritual that's part of a custom back home."

"And where might home be?"

"Camaden." Markus saw Phyrra's blank stare. "It's an island nation to the west of Atlas."

"Oh! I'm sorry, but I'm not familiar with it."

"Many people aren't, so you're in good company." They began to walk back toward the main school grounds. "People assume that the scattered islands around it are part of the Atlasian kingdom, but over a thousand years ago, the Camadens fought for and won their independence. It has since fallen on the wayside since then, since many think of their traditions and customs as 'backward.'"

"Like what?"

"A healthy dose of xenophobia, a strange pride in isolationism, and a distrust of technology. I mean, I learned how to read via whale oil lamp."

Phyrra glanced at Markus in wide-eyed awe. "Goodness."

"Yes. You can imagine my culture shock when I first arrived in Vale."

"It appears you have adjusted well."

"It's the benefit of youth, I'm told," Markus said with a smirk. "We take change better than most."

A ringing came from the distance. "It appears the cafeteria is open," Phyrra said. "Would you like to accompany me for breakfast?"

"Unfortunately, I have already eaten, and have other morning duties to which I must attend." Markus sadly said.

"Oh," Phyrra also sadly said. "Well, I will be seeing you later, then? For our first trial?"

"No, actually. I will not be joining the other first year students in the Emerald Forest."

Phyrra squinted in confusion. "Is it not a requirement for the first year students to participate?"

Markus opened his mouth to speak, but he quickly stopped himself as he fought for the right words. "My situation is… different. I have already faced the Emerald Forest." He could immediately tell he had only added to Phyrra's bewilderment. "There isn't much that I am allowed to discuss about my… unique status. But, when you return, and I have no doubt that you will return, perhaps I can -" he held up his hands and gave quote symbols "- 'accidentally' let some information go."

She smiled. "I look forward to our next encounter, then."

"As do I." Markus gave a head bow. "Earth Mother guide you." He saw her turn toward the cafeteria before about-facing. "Though I have a feeling you will not need it," he said under his breath.


	2. Judgement of the Ice

Markus sat at a cafeteria table, basking in the warm afternoon Sun coming through a window. He was reading away at the history book assigned for Professor Oobleck's history class when he was approached by Phyrra.

"Hello, again!" she cheerfully greeted.

"Ah, hello," Markus said, pulling away from his book. "Good to see you're in one piece." He put a piece of paper he was using for notes in as a bookmark. "Though I had a feeling I would see you again. How was the Emerald Forest yesterday?"

"Quite exhilarating, but nothing particularly difficult to handle," Phyrra said.

Markus took two fingers and scratched the tingling sensation behind his ear. "Is that so?" He put his hands upon his closed book. "Jaune didn't cause you any distress?"

"Were you watching?"

"I was, yes, only until the pairs had been formed. That's the only part worth watching, I think." He moved the book from the table and into a backpack. "It's a good thing he was paired with you, you know, seeing as his entrance was forged."

Phyrra's mouth dropped. "That is a very crude accusation. How can you be -"

"I've known ever since I first met him," Markus said, matter-of-factly. "Lying imprints itself onto the soul, and for those of us with the gift of Truthsense, we can detect it."

Phyrra's head shook. "I'm sorry, I don't understand."

Markus took a deep breath. "I do owe you some answers, I suppose, seeing as you made your way through the -" he stopped, and gave a frustrated sigh. "Okay, I know it's called the 'Emerald Forest,' but, topographically speaking, it's a valley, or at least a ravine, that so happens to have a forest in it. Don't you agree?"

Phyrra was surprised by Markus's excited demeanor. "Now that I think upon it, you do make a good argument."

"Finally! Thank you!" Markus exclaimed. "Glynda and Professor Ozpin thought I was crazy when I suggested that it should be renamed the 'Emerald Valley.' I think it rolls off the tongue easier." A pause took over, and he took the awkward moment of silence to recollect himself. "Sorry, I just had to get that out there."

Phyrra giggled. "It's quite alright."

"Anyway," he gestured to an empty seat next to him, "about those answers -"

"I think you owe all of us some answers!" a new voice yelled. The sudden introduction caused Markus to stand, Phyrra following suit, to see Yang power-walking to them. In her wake, the rest of the newly crowned Team RWBY followed. Behind them followed another three, the remainder of Team JNPR. "You can start by telling us why you weren't there!"

"I agree," said a girl in white. "I thought it was a requirement for all first year students to go into the Emerald Forest." She squared up on him. "Do you think you're so much better, and therefore need not participate?"

Markus turned to face her, folding his arms, trying to keep calm. "The reason I didn't get launched into the Emerald Forest with the rest of the first year students was because I wasn't allowed to." A small murmur permeated through the small group as Markus seated himself, the group following suit. "And also because I have already done it."

"What do you mean, 'already done it?'" Ruby asked.

"I was about to explain it, before being interrupted," he added, eyeing Yang. "And do I think I'm better?" he started, turning back toward the one in white. "For the time being, I do possess… superior fighting capabilities, but I do not hold myself higher than others because of it. I find petty shows of strength, cunning, or intellect to be… distasteful." He paused to think. "Though the Death Stalker I faced by myself would probably disagree."

"You faced a Death Stalker alone?" Jaune asked. "And lived?"

"It was quite a battle. You see, when its stinger first launches, it has the ability to redirect itself, until it reaches a certain point. So what I did was -" Markus saw the others impatiently waiting for him to finish his story, save for Jaune, who was listening intently. "Sorry." He smiled. "So, what do you want to know?"

"You can start by telling me your name, and where you're from," the one in white demanded.

"Fair enough. My name is Markus Frude, and I originally hail from the independent island nation of Camaden."

The one in white gasped, her expression going from one of anger, to shock. She did an open-armed curtsey. "Blessed day to you, brother!"

Markus followed by giving a one-armed bow back, as was tradition. "And a blessed day to you, sister."

One of the one's Markus didn't know, he believed his name was Ren, spoke. "What just happened?"

Markus answered. "You just witnessed the formal greeting between an Atlasian and a Camaden, as is tradition between our nations."

"Camaden is an island to the west of the main continent of Atlas," the one in white said, before addressing Markus. "And I am Weiss Schnee." She bowed again. "A pleasure."

"Why don't we, for the sake of comfort and time, make that the only traditional observance between us?" Mark suggested. "Otherwise we'll be here for the rest of the night."

"I couldn't agree more," Weiss said, relieved.

"Perfect! Another successful treaty negotiated between Atlas and Camaden."

"So why all the weird bows and words between you two?" Yang asked.

"Camaden used to be a part of Atlas," Weiss started to explain.

"I'm sure if you asked any other Camaden, they would say they were forcibly integrated into Atlas," Mark jutted in. "Atlas has always been a flagship of military might even in ancient times. Some of the more forward-thinking Atlasians thought better, and founded the nation of Camaden as a refuge. Atlas then claimed Camaden as part of their kingdom due to the 'abundance of the Atlasian populace residing there.' Then, a millennia ago, the Camaden people rose up, declared, fought for, and won their independence."

"Why did they rebel?" a softer voice from the back asked.

"Several reasons: Taxation without representation, inequal profit sharing, poor working conditions, and other lesser justifications."

Weiss continued. "Camaden used to be the largest source of Dust on Remnant. After the independence movement, they entered an uneasy business partnership with Atlas. Atlas would be the sole buyer of the Dust, and Camaden would have the reliability of a repeat customer."

"Hence all the formality on the greeting," Markus said. "Then, about five hundred years ago, the mines went dry. Once they did, the Atlasian mining companies packed up and left, taking their profits with them. Those who could afford to move, did. Those who couldn't, we call our ancestors. Some of the more stubborn Camadens consider the Atlasian bailout of Camaden to be a betrayal, but those of us who have a little more sense see it otherwise. It didn't stop the Camaden people to become a reclusive and xenophobic lot."

"And technologically stunted, I've been led to believe."

"As compared to here, oh yes. My Scroll alone would be considered a form of witchcraft."

The group shared a small laugh. "I didn't realize you had to acclimate to so much," Phyrra said.

Before Markus could respond, Weiss beat him to it. "So what brings a Camaden to Beacon?"

Markus raised his chin. "Ah, yes. To put it briefly, the island has been Grimm free for thousands of years. Something about the northern latitudes don't agree with them. That was until two years ago, when a trading caravan was attacked by Grimm. I was already in studies on another front when it was suggested to me that I attend Beacon by my mentor after I inadvertently demonstrated my combat prowess against a pack of Beowolves."

"'Inadvertently?'" she questioned.

"The only fighting experience that I had was basic hand-to-hand stuff. Yet I was able to defeat a pack of five Beowolves, singlehandedly… and I have no memory of how." Markus shook his head, in his own disbelief. "Verde was passing by and witnessed the event, and she led me to, and trained me, here."

"Verde?"

"That was my mentor's name."

"No fighting experience at all?" Ruby asked.

"None. There are no primary fighting schools in Camaden. It's hoped that I'll take what I learn here back with me, and teach others."

"Just how long have you been here?" Yang asked.

Markus paused to think. "Two years now? Seems like yesterday I was just stepping off the boat."

A commotion from another table caused the group to turn. A smaller group of students had cornered another, and were relentlessly pulling on the ears of the trapped student.

Markus immediately recognized who it was… when he realized the ears being pulled were rabbit ears. It was Velvet, and Markus knew she would be too timid to fight back. He quickly scanned the room to see if anyone else in CFVY was available, only to see no others of her team.

"See?" the puller said. "I told you they were real."

"Let go, please," she tried to say between tugs, but her cries were being ignored.

"I can't believe this still happens," Yang said. "People like Cardin disgust me."

"He's not the only one," Blake mentioned quietly.

Markus pushed back the bench on which he was sitting. "Excuse me," he said, voice dripping with anger. Markus stood, marching over to the group and throwing out an extended finger. " **YOU!** " his voice bellowed throughout the cafeteria, silencing all others. A once calm and reserved voice now spoke in an authoritative tone. "You will cease your hurtful transgressions immediately!"

The one who Markus assumed was named Cardin, at first shocked at the voice, simply looked over, unamused. "Or what? We're just having a little fun here." He gave Velvet's one final pull, enough to begin to lift her off the ground. Markus winched as she saw Velvet's eyes well in pain, before finally being released and falling to the floor. Cardin's other teammates simply laughed.

Markus could hear soft sobs. His breathing intensified as he was quickly losing control of his anger. "You must be brought to justice," he said through gritted teeth.

"Awww. Are you gonna tell on me?" Cardin asked.

"No," Markus answered. "Dueling ring. Ten minutes. You should have regained whatever Aura you lost in your fight with Jaune by now."

Cardin huffed a laugh. "Alright, if you insist on getting a beating." His team cleared out of the room.

Markus quickly dashed to Velvet's side. "Are you alright?" he quietly asked.

"Oh, yes, I'm -" she started, before seeing who it was. "No, I'm not. I'm hurt, in more ways than one."

An announcement page played overhead. "Attention, students. A unscheduled duel will be commencing in ten minutes. All those wishing to spectate please proceed in an orderly fashion to the dueling ring."

"You didn't have to do that," Velvet said, seeming to collect herself. "I don't want you to seek revenge on him for me."

He took one of her hands, helping her to her feet. "This isn't a vendetta," Markus said, still holding a hand of Velvet's. "This is about justice."

The doors burst open, and the remaining members of Team CFVY sprinted in. "Velvet!" Coco yelled. "Are you okay?"

"No, but I will be in time," Velvet said, drying an eye.

"Was that you, challenging whoever did this?" Fox asked.

"Yeah," Markus said, hanging his head. "I may have let my anger get to me a bit, but no matter." Markus realized he was still holding Velvet's hand, and gently let go. "I intend to see this through, as a testament, and example, that there are those among us still willing to stand in the way of intolerance, and punish the offenders."

Velvet gave one of her ears a quick smoothing out, straightening out matted fur before Coco took one of her arms in hers. "Do us a favor, and repay the kindness on his face."

Markus smiled deviously. "As a Justicar, I am bound to serve, and bring balance." CFVY turned to leave, before Markus stopped Coco, whispering, "I'll be up afterward… to see how she's doing."

Coco simply nodded before turning to leave. Markus joined the flow of people heading toward the dueling ring, followed quickly joined by Team RWBY and JNPR. "Well," Yang started, "looks like calm little monk man isn't so calm after all."

"His actions were completely unacceptable," Markus said, calmly walking to the ring. "I will show him, and the rest of the student body, that it will not be tolerated."

"It is a refreshing sight," Blake said, "to see a human come to the defense of a Faunus."

"I do have a question," Phyrra chimed in. "What did you mean when you called yourself as a 'Justicar?'"

Markus stopped at the door that lead to the dueling ring floor. "Another story for another time," he said, slipping out of his boots and tightening his dogi.

"You're really fond of saying that," Ruby said.

Markus couldn't help but to wink before crossing the threshold and onto the center ring.

* * *

"It appears our other combatant has arrived," Glynda said. "You were right."

"Well," Professor Ozpin said before taking a drink, "that didn't take long."

"Should we stop this?"

"No. We will use it to see if Markus still remembers his training." He set down his mug. "It's been more than a year since he was truly tested."

* * *

"This duel will follow standard tournament rules," an announcer said over loudspeakers. "Once one combatant's Aura has been depleted below a certain level, a winner will be declared. Prepare yourselves."

Cardin drew a large, bladed mace from behind his back. "Draw your weapon," he said to Markus.

Markus simply stood in his resting pose. "I need no weapon to bring the hammer of justice down upon you."

Cardin shrugged. "Your funeral, pal."

Markus stood silent, eyes intently observing the subtle movements made by Cardin. _He holds his weapon right over left, indicating right-handed dominance._

"The match begins in three…" _His feet are evenly spread apart and in line, but his readiness pose gives away his right as his power leg._

"... two…" _His first strike will be stepping with his left, swinging a shoulder level attack from right to left, and following through with his right foot._

"... one…" _To counter, left duck dodge, extending right leg straight, coming back up after his weapon has passed over. His right foot will be caught on mine, and his momentum will carry him too far forward before he realizes it. Backward jab with right elbow to ensure his momentum carries through._

A horn sounded, and Cardin jogged toward Markus. Markus assumed his "Thaw" pose, turning his left toward Cardin and entering a right lunge, bringing his right palm, opened downward, close to his face, and extending his left fully in front of him. As Cardin began to swing, Markus's prediction came to fruition. Cardin swung from right to left, but hit nothing but air, and stumbled on Markus's leg. An elbow jab shot Cardin forward, and before he could recover, he hit the floor of the ring with a satisfying thud.

To the crowd, they saw a glowing white blur first duck, giving the sound of a low electrical hum as it moved, then reforming into Markus.

Markus brought his hands back together. "Awww, did the widdle fighter fall down?" Markus taunted in baby talk.

Cadin quickly recovered, readying his next swing.

 _Truthsense triggered,_ his mind screamed. The skin behind his ears were indeed tingling. _He's feigning a baseball style swing, but foot placement indicate a strike from below instead._ Cardin moved to bring around his mace. _I'm not in a good position for this. Weapon ride and reset._ Markus jumped just as Cardin brought his weapon around, springboarding up into the ring's air. He gave one somersault before landing hard, and giving a "Ta da!" to Cardin.

Markus's antics garnered a few laughs from the crowd. "That was new," Professor Ozpin commented.

"Yes, improvisation," Glynda observed. "He's certainly getting better."

Cardin couldn't believe his eyes. "What are you, some kind of freak?"

Markus jokingly went into a rope-a-dope stance. "You know, if I had known my parents, I'd be able to tell you if they would be offended by that or not." He went back into his Thaw pose. "But I expected better from you. We are at Beacon, after all. I thought they accepted only the best."

Cardin went into a rage, slamming his hammer down and cracking the ground. _Enraged state indicated. Target is now at disadvantage._ Cardin began to charge. _Opponent will bring his weapon around in a wild circular swing, letting it carry his momentum upward for another quick, but off-hand attack. After first swing, he will try a blind right haymaker; parry with left forearm. He will follow with a left kick to abdomen. Block with right thigh. The mace will come down in an off-hand attack. Centered duck to dodge, and use squatted legs to come up with a right uppercut to jaw. Target will stammer backward. Use momentum to jump through, bringing hips and torso around. Turn head to spot face of target. When target is spotted, bring left leg around for the final spinning high-low Equinox kick. Goodnight, sweet prince._

True to his prediction, Cardin hit nothing but air and blocks. When Markus's bare foot came down on his head, it gave a satisfying but hard slap as it slammed Cardin into the floor. The spectators all stood at once, to see Markus go back to his resting pose, and to hear the grumbles of pain coming from his opponent. A horn blew, indicating the match was over.

"An embarrassment for an embarrassment, and pain for pain," Markus said to Cardin. "Your sentence has been served. May the Earth Mother show mercy upon you." He bowed, and left the ring.

* * *

"An impressive showing," Professor Ozpin said as Markus exited the ring. "Verde would be happy to see that you've retained her lessons."

"It was not for showmanship, what I did," Markus said, placing his boots on the ground and stepping into them.

"I know. I believe others will think twice before bringing any other ill will upon a Faunus here."

Markus shook his head. "It's a shame they had to learn by example, though."

"You cannot bring tolerance to the entire populace overnight," Ozpin said before taking a drink. "I believe I have already told you that."

"Seven times now."

Professor Ozpin motioned toward the door. "Your friends will want to hear of your… judgement."

Markus simply nodded, then moved to exit. _Thank you for not saying "victory."_


	3. Just a Theory

"That was amazing!" Nora yelled as her team and RWBY walked back to their rooms. "He was all like, 'Draw your weapon,'" she mocked in a very bad attempt at Cardin's voice, "but then Markus was all like "I don't need one to bring you down!' And then he was all like 'Wacha!' and 'Brrrrrtttzzzz!' and he was glowing and it was awesome!"

"Yes, Nora, we were there," Ren said, not sharing the same enthusiasm. "But I must admit, it was quite a spectacle."

"I have never seen someone springboard off a weapon like that," Phyrra said. "Do you think that is part of his Semblance?"

"It must be," Weiss said as she caught up to the group. "How else can you explain his precise strikes, and his glowing trail when he moved?"

"Dust user?" Ruby suggested.

"Maybe, but I've never seen anything like that before."

"Maybe it's a new type," Yang said.

"If that's the case, the Schnee Dust Company needs to know right away."

A black boot stepped around a corner. "It isn't Dust," Markus said as he came into full view. "Years of exposure to a Dust laden and isolated island has led to a… an immunity?" He brought his hand to his chin. "No, that's not the right word…" He tapped his chin, trying to think of a suitable way of phrasing. "Bah, it'll come to me later. Anyway, I couldn't use Dust if I tried." He stopped his walk. "But there is a trade-off. Camadens do have an inborn resistance to Dust-based attacks."

Weiss put a hand on her weapon. "Does Dust exposure decrease effectiveness of use?"

"That's the theory, in case of a Camaden, anyway," Markus said with a shrug. "Though, if you think about it, you shouldn't be surprised. My ancestors worked in the Dust mines when the Dust was plentiful, and worked it day in and day out for most of their adult lives. It could be argued that, due to the constant exposure to Dust, and the adaptability of human physiology, a mutation occurred. Or we just simply built a tolerance to its effects."

Ren gave a nod in agreement. "It is possible."

Markus eyed Weiss's weapon. "We could test this theory."

Weiss looked around, confused. "Now?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Markus said with a chuckle. "It's almost quiet hours. But soon, especially since we will eventually be writing a research paper for Professor Port. Why not conduct a little research of our own?"

"Perhaps starting tomorrow?" Weiss asked. "You have aroused my curiosity, a feat only few have done."

Markus's schedule flashed by in his mind. "Yes, I believe we can make this work. I have only one class tomorrow."

"One?" Ruby said in bewilderment. "How did you get to have so few?"

Markus opened his mouth to begin to speak, but fought for words, before simply smiling and holding out a reassuring hand. "There's… a lot I'm not supposed to discuss right now, and there's even more I'm not to discuss ever." This earned him a few eyes of suspicion. "But, I don't see why I couldn't let a few bits of information go. I've already taken a particular liking to this little group. We seem to be at the same places at the same times." Markus placed his hands behind his back. "Or, our destinies have become intertwined in some bizarre cosmic coincidence, and that's why we've been seeing each other so much, and meshing so well."

A laugh stirred from the ensemble. "A believer in destiny, are you?" Phyrra asked.

Markus shrugged. "Honestly, I could take it or leave it. I don't like to think my destiny is something I cannot control. I also like to think that my accomplishments have been my own, and not because of some invisible force."

Markus's words didn't sit well with Phyrra, and it visibly showed. "Could it be that our actions lead us to a destiny, but not one that is known?"

"Funny you should mention it like that," Markus began with a finger raised. "There's actually an old Camaden phrase for that exact sentiment. It was known as 'the undiscovered country.'" Markus pulled out his Scroll and checked the time. "But the hour grows late, I'm tired, and I was just over here to see how Velvet was fairing." He put his Scroll away. "I'm sure you didn't want to have a philosophical debate this late."

Blake stepped forward. "How is she doing?"

Markus gave an exhausted sigh. "She's shaken, but resting. She had just fallen asleep when I left, and her team is with her." Markus put a hand on Blake's shoulder. "She's gonna be fine. She's stronger than she knows." He gave her shoulder a pat before resuming his walk. "Goodnight, everyone."

Markus heard the exchanges of "Goodnight" between the others and himself, before hearing the clicks of doors shutting. "Yes… 'the undiscovered country.' A place from which no visitor has ever returned."

* * *

"So!" an energetic Professor Oobleck announced to the classroom, jerking everyone back to consciousness, albeit temporarily. "Who can tell me what many scholars believe was the turning point in the third year of the war?"

Weiss raised her hand. "The Battle at Fort Castle."

"Precisely! And, who can tell me the advantage the Faunus had over General Lagoon's forces?" he asked, appearing to slide in front of Jaune.

 _Good Mother,_ Markus thought from his seat. _He's exhausting me just by watching him._

"Mister Arc!" Professor Oobleck half said/shouted to Jaune. "Care to contribute to the discussion?"

"Uh… wha?" Jaune said in a sleepy stupor.

"The advantage the Faunus had at the Battle of Fort Castle. What was it?"

"Oh, uh… it was…" he drew out to buy time. He began to frantically search the faces of others for the answer. Phyrra pointed to her eyes, while being her, Markus attempted to silently mouth out "night vision." "Night… eyes?" Jaune finally answered.

The lecture hall echoed as students laughed. "Well, technically, you are not wrong," Oobleck said, taking another sip of his coffee, "though that's certainly a unique way of putting it."

Markus decided to bail him out. "It has been known that those of Faunus heritage will inherit the attributes of their physical extremities." He glanced at Velvet "Those with ears have superior hearing, those with tails have better balance, some possess higher strength, or have a more sensitive nose, but most possess at least some scotopic vision."

"General Lagoon either thought it wasn't a factor, or was ignorant of it," Blake added in, "so he tried to attack the Faunus in their sleep. Using their night vision, they were able to outflank and capture the General."

"Exactly!" Oobleck said in surprised elation. "So, what, dear students, can we take away from this tactical blunder?"

"'Know your enemy, and you will have already defeated them, before a weapon is raised,'" Markus quoted from one of his books from Camaden.

"An astute observation," Oobleck said.

"Credit should also be given to the Revolutionary forces to be so quick to capitalize on the opportunity when it has been realized."

Oobleck sipped his coffee. "I suppose that is true, however -" a bell interrupted him, "- it will have to wait until next time. Assigned readings are due then!" And in a blink, he was out the door.

Markus could do nothing but shake his head with mild amusement, and collect his things. As he stood, a glimpse of Cardin caught the corner of his eye. Markus waited until Cardin exited the hall to speak with him.

* * *

"Hey, you two!" Yang said as she came up to Blake and Weiss. "How was class?"

"Uneventful," Blake boredly remarked.

"Oh, c'mon! There has to have been one interesting thing that happened."

"Well," Weiss began, putting a balled hand on her hip, "I, for one, was surprised at Markus's understanding of Faunus history and physiology."

"Why is that?" Blake asked.

"Faunus are rare in Atlas. I can only assume they're even more so in Camaden."

"Oh, that makes sense."

"Speaking of him," Weiss searched around, "where is he? We were supposed to do Dust combat testing."

Yang assisted in Weiss's search, laying eyes on and finding him. "He's over there, talking to -" she squinted, "- Cardin."

"Is he going to give him another beating?" Blake asked with unusual enthusiasm.

"It doesn't look like it. He seems rather calm. Cardin looks surprised to see him, though." The three of them watched as Markus made several gestures to Cardin, then giving one of his shoulders a friendly tap, and a warm smile. They all saw Cardin tense as Velvet walked by, before Markus said something that made Cardin go jogging after her.

Markus then spotted the trio and quickly stride towards them. "Good morning, ladies."

"You and Cardin have a nice chat?" Yang jokingly asked.

"We actually did, yes," Markus answered, matter-of-factly. "I believe he's on the redeeming path."

"Is he?" Blake asked, highly suspicious.

"I didn't sense any deception from him."

"Wait," Yang interjected. "You can tell when people are lying?"

Markus affirmed with a nod and an audible "Mmhmm."

"Is… that your Semblance?"

"Professor Ozpin seems to think so, but Verde wasn't convinced." Markus took a quick glance back to see Velvet and Cardin still talking. "She seemed to think that Truthsense could be a teachable skill, since she possessed some ability of it herself. She theorized some of us are more responsive and sensitive to it."

"So what's this redeeming path you were talking about?" Weiss asked.

"Hang on," Markus said as Cardin approached. "What'd she say?"

Cardin hung his head. "She can't forgive me, at least not right now. In time, though, she might."

"But this is a good first step."

"And I also said if anyone else gave her problems, and I was in the area, to let me know."

"You seek to convert your transgression directly. The more direct, yet harder, path."

Cardin nodded, and gave the group a wave. "Anyway, I need to get going."

"Of course," Markus said with a bow. "Earth Mother bless your day." He turned back to Weiss. "I believe we have some tests to do."

"Sure, but…" Weiss stopped, giving time for thought. "What was all that?"

"Oh, I merely suggested it would be in their mutual interests to apologize."

"'Suggested?'" Yang asked. "Not 'demanded?'"

Markus grinned. "I can only point in the general direction." He looked to Blake. "It is up to the person whether or not they will walk the redeeming path."

"You do seem to have quite the attachment to Velvet," Blake said. "I would have thought you would gone after him again."

Markus's face scrunched. "Why would I? Justice has already been dispensed. And there are no souls that are beyond redemption."

"It looked to have hurt you just as much when you saw Cardin do what he did."

"Believe me, it did," Markus said as his skin crawled with the memory. He sighed. "I suppose I do have a certain… affinity for Team CFVY."

"The 'V' specificity, am I right?" Yang edged on with a nudge from her elbow. "Eh? Eh?"

Markus tried, but failed, to keep back a face flushing. "Perhaps."

The four shared a laugh. "Your… what is it? Truthsense? Does it make you not able to lie?"

"Not quite. It just makes us bad at it." He turned to leave. "I'm going to change. Shall I meet you in the courtyard in an hour or so to begin tests?"

"Shouldn't we let someone know that we're doing Dust experiments?" Weiss asked.

"I'll let Glynda know," Markus said. "I usually pass her on my way back at this time of day."

"Okay," Weiss said. "We will see you then."

They turned to go their separate ways. Shortly thereafter, Blake's Scroll sounded off work an alert. She opened it to see a surprising message from Markus:

" _Speaking of, may I talk with you tonight?"_

"Who's that?" Weiss inquired.

"It's just Ruby," Blake answered in a lie, "wondering where we are." She paused to send her answer:

" _Sure. When and where?"_

Markus immediately replied:

" _S_ _undown. My room. Staff wing, room 47. Door will be open."_

* * *

"Well, have you tried it?" Markus asked Weiss.

"Not exactly, no," she answered, looking down the impromptu target range.

"It should work, then. Or, at least I wouldn't understand why it wouldn't." He shrugged. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"We blow up the school," Blake said.

Markus threw out a dismissive hand. "I assure you, it's more resilient than you think."

Ruby extended Crescent Rose, putting its point into the ground. "Okay, if you're so sure."

"Why don't we start with something not so explosive at first, so you can get a feel for it," Markus suggested, looking down range. "But first, before that, a shot at the first dummy that will act as our control."

Ruby took aim at the leftmost Beowolf target dummy that had been set out, and fired. The round hit its mark, leaving a sizeable hole in the chestpiece.

"Okay, now that is established, go ahead with ice."

Weiss drew Myrtenaster, forming an ice glyph in front of Ruby. "Whenever you're ready."

Ruby took a moment to readjust, finding it difficult to see the next target through the glyph. "Firing!" she called out, sending the next shot down range.

The projectile hit, but did not leave a gaping hole like the first. Instead, the shot stuck to the dummy, hitting with enough force to make the pole on which it was behind held lean backward. Icicles formed around the dummy's midsection, pointing parallel with the ground.

"Huh," Markus said in surprise. "I didn't expect that."

"Neither did I," Weiss remarked.

"I mean, it looks like it would still hurt if something was hit by it, but it might be a less lethal method of subduing a target."

"It's hard to aim through the glyph, though," Ruby said, loading another round. "It'll have to be big and slow in order to be effective."

"We'll work on moving targets later," Markus said. "This is more of a proof-of-concept test." Markus turned back to the other targets. "Dare we try fire next?"

"What else would we try?" Weiss asked.

"Isn't there a Dust that can do time manipulation?"

Weiss spun the chambers of Myrtenaster to the appropriate vial, then set forth the glyph, this time in the shape of a cog wheel. "Firing!" Ruby called out again.

To everyone's surprise, the dummy just sat on its post, with no hole or movement of any kind.

"Hmmm, interesting," Markus said with an extended finger on his chin. "There's no ballistic damage on it."

"Did you miss?" Weiss directed to Ruby.

"No!" Ruby defensively said. "I was dead on!"

Markus held up a finger with an idea. "We may have to take more drastic measures on this one." He stepped out onto the range.

Ruby's face flashed to worry. "Markus?"

He only smiled. "Shoot me," he calmly said.

Weiss's mouth dropped. "Ummm… what?"

"Shoot me," Markus repeated, more insistent.

"Markus, we're not gonna -"

"Shoot me!" he yelled. His sudden outburst surprised everyone, even himself. "Sorry," he said cooly. "I'm just thinking that, since there was no ballistic damage on the dummy, there's an effect that it will take an observer to see. Like -" he paused, forming his thought into words, "- I dunno. Maybe the round fragmented and formed a field that creates a bubble of time."

"How would it know to form around you?" Ruby asked, still visibly scared.

"Things in the universe with mass bend time and space," Markus reasoned, mainly to convince himself. "Hopefully it'll warp around me." He took a readied stance. "If not, be prepared to rush me to the medical wing." Markus glanced to Blake and Yang. "You ready to take notes over there?" They both held up notepads and pens. "Good. Then it won't be for naught if things go wrong." He went back to Ruby and Weiss. "Form the glyph."

The temporal glyph reformed in front of Ruby. "What about your Dust resistance?" Weiss asked at the last second.

"Oh, shoot -" Markus began to say, but before he could add any more, Ruby pressed up on her trigger. At first, Markus heard the sound of the shot, but then it deepened, and as he looked up, he saw the smoke coming from the barrel slow.

He moved his hands in front of his face. He, at least, seemed to be moving in real time. As he started to take a step, the world caught up, and the full volume of the shot washed over him.

"Markus!" Ruby yelled. "I'm so sorry! You said 'shoot,' and I thought you meant -"

"Shoot me again!" Markus excitedly yelled back.

"Are you crazy!?"

"No! I think I'm right! Again!"

Ruby loaded another round into the chamber and fired again, but this time Markus was prepared. As soon as he saw the muzzle smoke slow, he sprinted toward Ruby and Weiss. He had just reached them when his theoretical field collasped.

"Boo!" he said from behind them.

Both girls shrieked. "Where the heck did you come from?" Ruby asked, still trying to catch her breath.

"You were just over there not even a second ago!" Weiss exclaimed.

Markus spun around. "And not a hole to be found." He put his hands on his hips in triumph. "A successful test, I think."

"Did either of you two see what happened?" Weiss directed to Blake and Yang.

"Nope!" Yang said. "Too fast for me."

"I only saw a green blur," Blake answered.

"Imagine what it could do on a non-resistant target," Markus wondered aloud.

His thought was quickly cut off by the sudden appearance of Team JNPR. "We heard screams," Phyrra said. "Is everything alright?"

"Oh, yes," Weiss replied. "Markus just gave us a startle."

Nora came up from below Markus. "Didn't anyone tell you that's not nice?" she said, booping Markus on the nose.

"I had to test my theory, and they just happened to be close enough," Markus explained.

"What theory?" Ren asked.

Markus spun to face Ruby and Weiss. "Again."

Weiss formed the rune, nodding to Ruby when it stabilized. Ruby shot, forming Markus's field. He sprinted down the target range, climbing atop one of the undamaged dummies. He heard the field collapse, and whistled to get JNPR's attention.

"Amazing!" Phyrra said in awe. "Time manipulation?"

"That's what it looks like. 'Localized time distortion,' I think is a good name for it. More tests need to be done." He looked to the afternoon Sun. 'But I think that's enough for our minds to chew on for one day."

* * *

A knock on Markus's door broke his meditation concentration. "Come in." He heard the door open, then close, but nothing else. "Would it offend you if I said you have a feline grace?"

"Is that a cat joke?" Blake asked, reaching for her bow.

Markus heard the bow begin to unravel, causing him to turn and face Blake. "I meant no disrespect or offense." He looked to her extra set of ears. "Why do you hide them?"

Blake bashfully looked away. "I don't want people to know."

The skin behind Markus's ears gave a slight tingle, letting him know she wasn't telling the entire truth. "You mean you don't want any non-Faunus to know."

The tingling sensation stopped when Blake nodded. "I forgot about your Semblance."

"Many do," Markus reassured. "I've managed to catch Professor Ozpin in a few half-truths, so you're in good company."

He saw Blake relax, albeit slightly. He pointed to one of his chairs, which she took. "I don't want people to know of my previous association, either."

Markus seated himself on his bed. "Do you think a couple of extra ears will arouse that kind of suspicion?"

"Most humans are untrusting of Faunus, anyway."

"I was never untrusting of Faunus. Then again, the first time I saw one was a couple of years ago, and I didn't learn of the White Fang until six months after that."

Blake's head shook. "You never had to face them. Never saw their ferocity."

"I believe I saw their ferocity first hand," Markus said, louder. He traced his facial scar. "Did you forget about what _you_ did?"

"Oh," she shamefully said. "I did. I try to forget most of what happened then."

"Why?" he asked, moving closer. "To deny it is to deny part of yourself."

"It's part of my life I want to forget."

Markus held up his head in realization. "Ahhh, now I see why you wear the bow. You are hiding your Faunus heritage… from yourself." Markus gently put a hand on her shoulder. "You won't be able to. I won't pretend that I know of the White Fang's true furiousness, but something like that is going to stay with you for the rest of your days. You can't deny it, run from it, or hide it, not for very long, anyway."

Blake's head hung as she looked down. He heard a sniff after a moment's silence, and saw a tear fall on her leg. "The sooner you can forgive and trust yourself again, and accept that you are not your past, the easier time you will have." He stood. "Your past will then only be the past. Nothing more."

Blake let out a shaky breath, and stood with him. She first took a hand and wiped away an errant tear, then took a finger and gently ran it along the scar she made. "I was surprised, you know… when you talked to me on the first day. Or even now, for that matter."

Markus took her tracing hand in his. "No soul is beyond redeeming." And for the briefest of moments, Markus spotted a smile on her face. He let her and go. "Anyway, it's late."

Blake started to retie her bow. "I assume you'll keep this between us?"

Markus nodded. "Only until you're ready to accept who you are."

She rolled her eyes. "That could be years from now."

"I have a feeling you'll accidently let it slip before then, but yes." He mimicked his mouth being zipped closed, and locked.

Blake grabbed the door handle before stopping. "Who else knows?"

"Just Professor Ozpin and myself."

She sighed in relief. "Thank you," she quietly said, and departed the room.

Markus breathed a happy sigh for himself. _Still on the redeeming path,_ he thought. _Earth Mother, watch over you, Blake Belladonna._


	4. Tradition for Tradition's Sake

Markus awoke to the first rays of daylight scattering over the eastern mountains, birds beginning their first song of the day, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee coming from his kitchenette. As per usual, he arose from his bed, lightly stretched, poured coffee in his cup, made his bed, and by that time, his coffee had cooled to his preferred temperature.

 _Do I like it this warm because of my morning ritual, or did I incorporate my morning ritual around liking it this warm?_ He simply shrugged off his existential question as a topic for later, and continued his morning with a breakfast consisting of eggs, oatmeal, a short stack of pancakes, and a small fruit bowl.

 _I don't miss the days when breakfast consisted of only duly-flavored, cold porridge,_ he thought as he ate. He stabbed a grape with a fork. _No fault of their own, though. Hard to get anything to grow in an arctic tundra._

After eating his fill, he set his dishes in his sink to be washed later, dressed in a lightweight dogi, this one being a darker orange with blue waist tie, grabbed his rolled mat, and stepped out of his room, heading for the elevator.

"Good morning, Mister Frude!" an always cheery Professor Port greeted Markus as he neared the elevator doors.

Markus could tell he had just risen from sleep. "Good morning, Professor Port," Markus said back. "How's the moustache today?"

"Full and voluptuous, as always!" he replied. "Heading down for your morning calisthenics?"

"I am, yes," Markus confirmed. "I've started to become a creature of habit."

"There's nothing wrong with a little mundanity of daily routine," Professor Port said.

The elevator chimed and opened. "I suppose not."

"I have been meaning to ask how your Dust experiment went the other day." Port said as Markus stepped into the car.

"Interesting, to say the least," Markus said as he turned. "I'll be writing a report about them, in conjunction with Team RWBY."

"Most splendid!" Port said with a hearty fist swipe. "I'm looking forward to reading it already!"

The doors closed, and Markus began his descent to the ground floor. A nonstop ride later, he was stunned to be greeted by Velvet, dressed in light sportswear. "Oh, hello," she hastily greeted.

"Hey, good morning," he said back with a gleeful smile. "This is an unexpected treat. What are you doing up and about this early?"

"Well, I -" she stopped to readjust her hair, "I-I was hoping I could join you in your morning activity."

Markus was genuinely surprised. Velvet was the first person who ever had asked to join him. "Sure! I mean, the more the merrier, but I do have to ask because it begs the question: Why?"

"Has no one else asked to join you?"

"You're the first," Markus said. "Most others are still asleep this time in the morning."

"I'm curious about your… traditions," she admitted.

Markus's Truthsense duly tingled, indicating a half-truth, but let it be. "I seem to be arousing everyone's curiosity, as of late."

"Well, you're an interesting person," Velvet unintentionally let out. Her face immediately went red. "I-I mean your traditions interest me… not that I mean I don't find you interesting as a person, but -"

Markus held out a hand to stop her. "Relax, take a breath," he calmly told her, with Velvet following suit. "Now, tell me what you're trying to say."

Velvet collected herself. "You and I have been friends for a year now, and I find the traditions of Camaden interesting, and would like to know more about them."

Markus smiled. "I would be more than happy to oblige." He gestured to the door leading outside. "Come, we are on kind of a timetable."

"Oh, okay!" she excitedly said. "Do I need to bring anything else?"

Markus gave her a once-over. "You should be okay for today. But, if this becomes a regular thing, you might want to get one of these," he said as he pointed to his rolled mat. "There is a sporting goods store right beside Tukson's Book Trade; that is where I got mine." He gave it a knock. "Mine is bamboo, but they do have softer options, if you so choose, but for today," he smirked, "I hope you don't have problems with personal space."

They opened the doors into the cool morning air. "Three other people share a dorm with me. There's no such thing as personal space."

They shared a quiet laugh. "Fair point," Markus said as they continued walking toward a nearby cliff. "A bit of history first," he said as the pair stepped off the path and onto the grass. "Camaden is founded on spiritual ideals that once were banned by the ancient Atlasians. When it was first being settled, there were two types of Atlasians who were forcibly relocated to what would eventually be Camaden: People who worshipped the Sun and Moon as deities, and people who worshipped Remnant as an entity unto itself. Eventually over time, these two ideals merged, in an era event called 'The Great Blending.'"

"How long ago was this?" Velvet asked.

"Between fifteen hundred and two thousand years ago." Markus stopped his walk just before the cliff. "Ancient history, but it will give sense to some of the things we'll be doing this morning."

Velvet watched as he unrolled the mat. "Why were they forced from Atlas in the first place?"

"The records are sparse on why," Markus said as he removed his boots. Velvet mimicked, removing her slip-ons. "Many scholars think it was merely because the ancient Atlasians thought of their traditions as… weird, or out of the norm."

"And that justifies a relocation of an entire subset of people?"

"The Atlasians found that it was easier to move a small population than it was to subjugate them," Markus said as he knelt. "Look what happened to the Faunus when the humans tried to keep them bound to Menagerie, at least until the Revolution." Markus saw Velvet's face scowl. "Sorry, I know talking about the Faunus Revolution makes you uncomfortable."

Velvet knelt beside him. "So, the two group blended," she started to resume their previous conversation.

"Yes, the Great Blending," Markus said as he tucked his other leg under him. "Elements of each group mixed, and formed most of what consists of Camaden culture." He placed his hands on his thighs, Velvet mimicking his actions. "The Sun Goddess eventually became Sister Sun, the Moon Goddess became Sister Moon, and the Remnant entity became -"

"The Earth Mother?" Velvet asked.

Markus nodded. "Yes, or the All-Mother, the Mother of Mothers, the True Mother, Terra Mata; she has several names."

"Why are the Sun and Moon not called 'Aunt Sun' or 'Aunt Moon?'"

"Scholarly evidence suggests they once were, but as time went on, the words became mistranslated from the Ancient Tongue, and it stuck." Markus breathed heavily. "Another view states, since we are part of the Earth Mother, we must see the other heavenly bodies as She sees them; as Her siblings."

Velvet took a deep breath. "How does this relate to what we're doing?"

"A major concept of the Camaden experience is balance," Markus said, bringing his chin upward. "We seek balance in our daily lives, and in life as a whole. Part of that involves greeting Sister Sun and Sister Moon, the two most influential weights on the scale of our daily lives: The Sun, bringer of warmth, light, and hope, and the Moon, the harbinger of coolness, dark, and tranquility. Night and day, and sitting at the fulcrum…"

"Us," Velvet said, in an understanding. "Well, the Earth Mother."

"Right," Markus said in a whisper. "You catch on quick."

"I have been told I am a fast learner." She had a small laugh.

Markus only smiled in amusement before cracking an eye to see the light coming over the mountains. "Okay, the Sun is about to crest over the horizon. Close your eyes," she and his eyes shut, "breath deep, and clear your mind." Markus's mind went blank. "Now, think, and focus, of what imbalances are in your life, and what you can do to correct them." The Sun rose over the shadow of the mountains. "Feel Her," he said no louder than a whisper. "Feel Her light, Her warmth, washing over you… and through you."

He turned to face Velvet. Her still figure appeared to glow in the morning light, taking in just about everything the Sun could give. Her brown hair, held loosely in a ponytail, shimmered, and cut the light into bands in the heavy morning air.

"Take a slow breath," Markus quietly said. She inhaled through her nose, letting it go in jitters. She then took a sharp quick breath in ecstasy, as a feeling of warmth coursed throughout her being. As the feeling passed, she opened her eyes and looked to Markus.

Markus could only smile back. "That… is the feeling of hope, incarnate."

Velvet began to recover, still visibly drunk on the high. "Wow, that… I have no words to adequately describe what I just went through." She removed a small towel hanging from her waistband and wiped away a few beads of sweat from her brow. "It was like I had sunlight inside of me."

"It's been said that the morning greeting can melt even the most frozen of hearts." He bobbed his head from side-to-side. "Well, that's what Verde said, anyway."

"Your mentor seems well-versed in Camaden ways," Velvet said, her breathing now normal.

"She had spent a few years in Camaden before she found me." Markus went to a more comfortable seated position, now sitting cross-legged, with Velvet joining him shortly after. "She herself was formerly a student here at Beacon training to be a Huntress, before she began her focus on developing her own fighting style, then turning to the adventurer route."

"Is that what technique you use?" Velvet asked. "Hers?"

"Yes," Markus said with a slow nod. "She referred to it as the 'Spring' technique. I'm the only other person on Remnant who knows it."

"It's quite impressive."

"Oh, you would be speechless if you would have seen _her_ in action." Markus brought a hand up, moving it in a fluid figure-eight. "As smooth as a peaceful river," he threw his hand down to a nearby flower, picking it in a blink, "but as fast as a lightening strike."

Velvet tilted her head. "I remember seeing her a few times. Where is she now?" she inquired. "Is she still here?"

Markus suddenly went quiet, turning his attention away from Velvet and to the flower. It was a common clover bloom, its white petals forming an almost perfect sphere. "No," he quietly answered. "There was an… incident, involving one of her sisters. She was attacked, and we -" Markus closed his eyes and sighed, knowing he should have said what he did, "- we believe the assailant may try to target her next."

"You don't know where she is?"

"No, nor do I want to. Not when there's a threat to her." He moved to throw the flower over the cliff, but stopped on wind-up, bringing it back into the cradle of his hand. "The danger to both of them would have been too great if they were together."

"The attacked one survived," Velvet managed to discern. "Is she okay?"

"Last that I knew, she was stable, but on life support." Velvet drew a gasp, while Markus only shook his head. "Complications within the family."

Velvet moved closer, slowly putting an arm around Markus. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to open an old wound."

Markus accepted her comfort, resting his head upon her shoulder. He found a serene comfort in her embrace as he relaxed. He sat in her arms before saying "It's okay. I suppose I had to open up to someone about it sooner or later." He brought a shoulder to a teary eye. "But it's enough for me to know she's out there, making more stories. And, if her sister's assailant finds out about our prior association, I don't have to lie when I say 'I don't know where she is.' The Truthsense does make us bad liars, after all."

"Were you and Verde… close?" Velvet asked, wondering if it would be too personal.

"Closer than we should have been," Markus regretfully said. He let out a long breath, sitting back up and basking in the Sun. "But we both recognized it, a little too late." He leaned back. "Do you remember Team TRNP?"

"They were a second year team, yeah? When I was a first year?"

"They were. I accompanied them - and if you tell anyone this, I'll have to get rid of you, and I don't wanna do that, because I like you -" he grinned playfully, making Velvet giggle, "I accompanied them on a mission. It was the mission that gave me this," he said as he traced along his scar.

"I remember hearing whispers about someone returning hurt, but didn't realized it was you."

"It was kept quiet since I really wasn't to be out there in the first place. I was told I passed out on the flight back and they rushed me to the medical wing. Verde was glued to my side the entire time I was there, and the next three days afterward. She blamed herself for my injury, and… we didn't realize just how connected we had become." Markus sighed. "But, that's what happens when you spend the better part of two years together."

"Do you… still… have feelings for her?" Velvet hesitantly asked.

Markus looked up at Velvet. "Not anymore. We made our peace with each other before she left." He reached out and delicately placed the flower beside her right Faunus ear. "I have since brought that part of me back into balance."

Velvet feintly blushed, pulling her hair to better secure the flower. "You know, I never did thank you for the other day." Markus moved to speak, but was quickly silenced by Velvet's finger. "Before you go on about your 'justice' speech, that's not what I mean." She let her hand fall, and Markus kept his tongue. "I'm talking about afterward, when you came up to see me."

"You were hurt," Markus said, giving her Faunus ears a quick glance. "I'd be a bad friend if I hadn't."

"It's just…" Velvet leaned forward, putting a hand on one of Markus's knees. "There been no other person who has ever done anything like that," she withdrew her hand, "at least none who weren't family or my team."

Markus was surprised by her sudden touch. _But it's not unwelcome,_ he thought. _I should have known better than to doubt Verde._

"And… I appreciate it," she added to fill the silence.

"You know I would do it again without hesitation," Markus said, breaking his speechlessness. "I've grown quite fond of CFVY… and to you."

Velvet shied away. "Why is that?"

"Well there was the spire incident…"

She playfully pushed him away. "Oh, hush about that!"

Markus laughed. "Sorry! You know it would be me without bringing it up."

A chime in the distance sounded, letting the campus know the cafeteria was open for the day. Markus heard Velvet's stomach grumble. "I'm famished. I bet you have already eaten."

"I have, yes," Markus confirmed.

"One of these days we should get breakfast."

Markus put his hands on his knees and stood. He held out his hand for her, helping Velvet to her feet. "Why don't we start with dinner?"

Velvet's eyes went wide. "When?"

"How about tonight? I know a little place down on the docks."

Velvet smiled. "I'd love to."

The sound of footsteps from behind them caused both Markus and Velvet to turn. "Good morning," Professor Ozpin said, trademark mug in hand. "Revealing secrets again, Mister Frude?"

Markus grinned. "You know me better than that, Professor."

"Yes, I know." Professor Ozpin took a drink. "That's why I asked."

"Now that's just hurtful."

Professor Ozpin gave a hint of a smile. "It's time for our monthly meeting."

Markus took his Scroll out of a hidden pocket from behind his back, checking the date. "So it is." He put it away, turning back to Velvet. "I'll send you a message later detailing a time for tonight."

"Okay!" Velvet said, smiling ear to ear. "I look forward to it!"

Markus took Velvet's hand, giving it a small kiss. "Until then, may the Earth Mother bless your day."

Professor Ozpin and Markus watched as Velvet strode toward the cafeteria, a visible pep in her step. "Breaking new boundaries, I see."

Markus gave him a glance. "I'm merely following through with Verde's suggestion."

"Of course," Ozpin said, starting to walk back to the main spire. "Sometimes I think she knew you better than you know yourself."

Markus kept pace with Ozpin on his left. "Sometimes I think you're right." They held their silence until they reached the central elevator. "Business as usual?"

"Most likely. Unless Ironwood says something about the Dust thefts."

* * *

"That's the ninth shop in the last sixth months," the projected version of General Ironwood angrily said, "and the second within the last week."

"Yes," a waveform of another voice chimed in. "We can count, too, ya know."

"Go back to sleep, Qrow," Ironwood said. "You're drunk."

"Gentlemen, please," Glynda said to everyone in an effort to get them back on track. "We will get nowhere if we continue to squabble like children."

"Has the V.P.D. been about to locate any of the stolen Dust?" Qrow asked.

"The only containers they have been able to recover have been the prepackaged cylinders with the tracking devices in them."

"They're becoming more suspicious," Ironwood said, "or they have an informant somewhere."

Markus sat at Professor Ozpin's desk with his chin on a hand. "Their sudden paranoia and attention to detail could mean they are nearing an operational point in their plan, and taking necessary precautions to ensure their preparations have not been for nothing." Markus sat back up. "Had we started tracking them six months ago, perhaps that would not have been the case."

"No point of lamenting on what we should have done," Professor Ozpin finally added to the conversation. "The only thing we can do is play the cards have been dealt."

Markus hummed in thought. "Then perhaps we need to sweeten the pot."

"How do you mean?" Ironwood asked.

"We give them an opportunity they can't refuse, one that will make them throw caution to the wind." Markus stood. "How is your supply of Dust these days, General?"

"Nearing one hundred percent capacity, as of -" General Ironwood looked down at his Scroll, "- four days ago. Why do you ask?"

"Bait for the trap, General," Markus said. "We say that, due to the recent Dust thefts, retailers are fearing a price increase, so they're buying up whatever they can." He began to pace. "The orders get fulfilled by the Schnee Dust Company, and expressed shipped to Vale to beat the Vytal Festival traffic. It gets offloaded at the docks, and then we wait for whoever is doing the robbing to try to get it."

"What then?" Professor Ozpin asked, leaning forward on his desk.

"Then, we… try to capture one of the perpetrators," Markus said, ironing out his plan. "Even if we can only get one, you all know I have methods at my disposal to get the information we need. The only drawback is this 'order' will have to be large enough to arouse adequate attention and discussion."

"How large?"

"At least fifty shipping containers, all packed to the brim with Dust. And they will actually have to be packed. They'll have to be in the appropriately labeled containers to legitimize the order. Word will get around about the large order, and hopefully the correct people will be listening."

Even through the projected video, general Ironwood still looked doubtful. "This is going to be a lot of wasted effort if nothing ends up happening."

"Better than wasting lives," Qrow said. "I'll all for it."

"His idea does have merit," Glynda said in agreement.

Professor Ozpin snuck a quick drink. "He has the benefit of youth, and seeing things as an outsider." He faced Ironwood. "How soon can you have them here?"

"I see you've made up your mind," Ironwood said in defeat. "Two days, minimum."

Ozpin nodded. "Anything else that needs discussed?" Silence filled the room. "Very well. Meeting adjourned." The two screens went blank. "I'm assuming you will be watching over the shipment once it arrives?"

Markus turned to leave. "I figured that was already implied, but yes. You know there's no other better person at ghost reconnaissance."

"We'll let you know when it's here."

Markus nodded as he summoned an elevator car. "If you'll excuse me, I have a date for which to prepare."


	5. Date Night

The remaining day for Markus passed irrevocably slow. After attending the remainder of his classes, he returned to his quarters and began to pick through his dressers, first opening his collection of dogi. _This is a date, not a sparring match_ , he scolded himself. Shutting the drawer, he opened a nearby closet, quickly overwhelmed by his own selection. "Oh, Mother," he said aloud. In an uncharacteristic panic, he fumbled for his Scroll, trying to think who best could assist him.

 _Yang! She seems like the go-out person!_ Markus unfolded the device, snapping a picture of his closet, and sending it as an attachment with the message:

" _Date tonight. Bad at clothes. Please help!_ "

Markus jumped at the immediate response:

" _Awww! Where you at?_ "

" _My room. Staff wing, room 47._ "

Markus knew that, at a moderate pace, it would take an average person ten minutes to trek from the student dorms, which is why he was surprised when a pounding came from his door five minutes later. He opened the door to reveal not only Yang, but the entirety of Team RWBY.

"How the heck did you get a room in the staff wing?" Yang loudly asked.

Markus grinned. "It's good to see you again, too," he said, "and that's a long story."

"What time is your date?"

"Six."

Yang spotted a nearby clock, it displaying "3:43." "We've got some time."

"If you insist on prying." He opened the door fully, gesturing inside. "Please, come in." The team flied in, one after another. "Weiss, Blake, Ruby, good to see you all again."

The girls entered a room painted an off-white, being immediately flanked by an oak desk and bookshelf to their left and right, respectively, and smelling faintly of orange blossoms. Perpendicular to the bookcase and along the wall sat a plush reading chair, complete with floor lamp and a two-tier coffee table. A small dividing wall separated carpeted and tiled floors, leading to a kitchenette with a moderately sized island, with cabinets facing the counter, and two barstools on the opposite side. A couch faced a wall-mounted projection TV, and to its left sat two more doors, one closed, the other leading to a bathroom.

"Wow," Weiss admired. "You seem to be living well."

"Don't let the appearance deceive you. It's a pretty rough neighborhood," Markus joked with a wink.

"It's very open," Yang observed as she walked to the bookcase. "Doesn't it get annoying to have an eastern facing window?"

"Not really," Markus said. "It gives me a chance to greet the day and the night."

"That would be the first thing I would put up," Weiss said, approaching a window. "Blackout curtains, on an automated retractor, so I'm not blinded by the Sun when I first wake up."

"You could just wake up before it rises," Markus suggested. Weiss flashed him an angry eye. "You're right," he said, assuming a defensive posture. "You don't seem to be a morning person."

Ruby sped next to Markus. "She's not," she whispered.

"Anyway," Weiss began to change the subject, "how did you acquire such spacious accommodations?"

Markus opened the closed door, leading into his bedroom. A made queen size bed adorned with light blue sheets and navy blue comforter took up a quarter of the space, while a dresser and walk-in wardrobe flanked a window. "When Verde and I first arrived, the semester was already in session. The dorms were all full, a hotel would have been too expensive, and there just happened to be a recent vacancy here."

"Who was the previous owner?" Yang asked.

"We never got his name. All Glynda told us was that his boyfriend had won some jackpot in the lottery, and they both left to go live in paradise."

"Oh, lucky him."

"Indeed, but to the matter at hand." Markus threw open his wardrobe. "I spend most of my time in my dogi, my school uniform, or sleepwear, so… I'm not the most fashion savvy person."

Weiss was the first to step up toward his clothing options. "Where will you be going?"

"A little café near the docks," Markus said.

"How would you describe the atmosphere?' Weiss asked, giving his hanging attire a hard look. "Formal, casual, hole-in-the-wall?"

"Casual," Markus confidently confirmed. "Definitely casual. It's a place you can go in, get a spot of tea, then go about your day."

Blake perked up at the mentioning of tea. "I'm always on the lookout for a nice tea place. Where is it?"

"Remind me later, and I'll get you the address," Markus said as he dodged a flying shirt. He pointed back out into the main room. "I do have some of their take-home teas, if you wanted to try it."

Blake was in the kitchenette in the flash, rummaging through cabinets. "Tea kettle?"

"In the island, down on the bottom shelf, middle cabinet," Markus told her with an amused smile. "The tea is in the the cabinet next to the hood."

Weiss, undistracted by the commotion, continued to probe at Markus with questions. "Who are you taking on this date?"

Markus stood taller before answering. "Velvet."

Yang threw her hand into the air. "Called it!" Markus gave her a sarcastic smile.

"Isn't that the Faunus girl from Professor Oobleck's class?" Weiss asked. "The one who sits in front of us?"

"The very same," Markus said.

"That surprises me," Weiss mentioned as she moved away from the walk-in.

"How so?"

Weiss laid out clothing options on his bed. "She's a Faunus, for starters."

Markus's face scowled. "I fail to see why that should surprise you."

"The White Fang… and the Faunus…"

"Oh," Markus said in revelation, before shaking his head. "No, I can make that disconnect. But I suppose I am at an advantage, being an outsider." He reviewed the clothing choices before him. "I had never seen a Faunus until a couple of years ago. To me, they were just people with extra physical features." The whistling of the tea kettle made Markus turn toward Blake, who was nose-deep in a book, walking to remove the kettle from the heat. "A few months later, I learned about the White Fang."

"A group of degenerate terrorists," Weiss hissed.

"Perhaps," Markus began, "But not all quadrilaterals are squares."

Weiss broke her attention away from the wardrobe and focused it to Markus. "What?"

"That was a favorite saying of one of my instructors in Camaden." Markus sat at the foot of his bed. "One is not always the other."

Weiss closed the distance between her and Markus, her rapid approach causing him to stand again. "You've never had to experience them like I have. You don't know their savagery, their ferocity."

Markus traced along his scar. "I do."

"Not like I do," Weiss said, shaking her head. "Not when you've spent a lifetime watching friends disappear."

He hummed. "You're right. I don't know what that's like, and I would be a fool to attempt to try." Markus was about to turn away before adding, "Oh, and I'm sorry if I sounded… condescending earlier."

Weiss gave a weak smile and nodded in acknowledgement. "I would go with this light green polo," she said, grabbing the garment, "with a white undershirt, these khaki shorts, and those blue canvas shoes." She held the shirt up to Markus. "It really brings out the unique color of your eyes." Both Yang and Ruby moved to admire the combination.

"'Stormy sea blue.' That's what Verde called them."

Ruby looked past Markus when a glimmer caught her eye from within the wardrobe. She moved to the reflection source and pulled on the gold trim attached to a white sleeve. The sleeve moved up to a soft shoulder pad that pointed outward, with more gold accents and a red underlay. "Hey Markus. What's this?"

Markus spun to see Ruby's discovery. "Ah, those are my Justicar robes."

"Justicar?" Yang asked.

"Yes, you've mentioned that before your duel with Cardin," Weiss remembered. "What exactly is it?"

"It's what I was originally training to do before coming to Beacon." Markus fully removed the outfit from the wardrobe. The robe itself was pure white, with various symmetrical gold accents throughout it. Markus opened the robe to reveal the red lining on the inside. "Camaden is so sparsely populated that there isn't a standing police force or centralized judiciary system. People tended to police themselves out of mutual respect. But, when things did go wrong, there were the Justicars."

"You were training to be a type of judge?" Weiss asked.

"A mobile one, yes. Justicars would go out from the capital city and spend six to eight months on the road, going from town to town, delivering judgements on disputes." He moved a hand over the fabric. "It was mainly contract work: Reviewing claims of breaches of contract, notarization of documents, execution of wills, those sorts of things."

"Sounds boring," Yang said.

"It was, for the most part, but I didn't have much of a choice." He put the robes away. "My parents were lost at sea on a fishing boat when I was only a toddler, and I was, for lack of better terminology, pawned off on the Justicars when they passed through my village. But then my Truthsense was discovered, and I fell in with them."

Ruby had moved to sitting on the floor, intensely listening. "How'd that happen?"

"How was my Truthsense discovered?" Ruby nodded. "I don't remember the exact details, but it involved one of the other Justicars tell a half-truth when I was four, and I called him out on it."

"Weird," Ruby said.

"Though, I've been thinking over the last few months, and I'm starting to side with Verde. I don't think it's a Semblance," Markus said, "at least not by itself. Verde had some practical understanding of Truthsense, though it was never as keen as my own. It gave her a feeling it could be a skill that could be taught."

"So what is your Semblance?" Weiss asked.

Markus simply shrugged. "I don't know. We could be wrong, and my ability to discern truth from fallacy could very well be it, but it seems like an awful waste, doesn't it?"

"Hey," Ruby said as an idea sprang into her mind. "Didn't Phyrra do that Aura awakening thing on Jaune? What if she tried it on Markus here?"

"Is that the 'For it is in our passing that we achieve immortality' thing?" Markus asked.

"That's the one."

"Uhm… Verde already tried… and it almost killed her."

The girls' mouths dropped. "What!?"

"I seem to have missed something," Blake said, rejoining the group. "Almost killed who?"

"Verde," Markus said, hanging his chosen outfit on the wardrobe's handles, "when she attempted to use her Aura to unlock mine. It was going well for a second or two, then I felt this pressure on my heart," he placed a palm on his chest, "and, here's the craziest thing about it, I felt it reach out and hit Verde."

"So how did that 'almost kill her,' exactly?" Weiss asked.

"Okay, I may have exaggerated a bit, but it was still a frightening experience." He shivered from the memory. "After she came to, she told me I have an unprecedented amount of Aura, an amount never before seen, but from our brief encounter, she could tell that it was only partially unlocked."

"You do well with only a partial Aura," Yang commented.

"Thanks, but there's a problem: What would happen if my unknown Semblance were to manifest if my full Aura -" he snapped his fingers, "- suddenly unlocked?"

"You would be a danger to anyone around you," Blake said, with a hint of sadness, "and to yourself."

"Exactly," Markus said with a nod. "That's the other reason I was brought to Beacon: To bring my Aura and Semblance to fruition in a controlled, steady manner." He shut the wardrobe doors and sighed. "It's not everyday you get told you're a walking time bomb."

"'Time bomb?'" Yang worryingly asked.

"Who knows when it will manifest." Markus saw the team exchange uneasy looks. "Right now, it's just a waiting game."

"So what's that white glowing trail you leave behind yourself when you're fighting?"

"Verde and I couldn't figure that out, either." Markus began to move back into the main room. "It only happened a couple of times in training, and when I fought that pack of Beowolves in Camaden."

Blake reached for her Scroll. "Maybe it's part of your Semblance."

"It could be possible. But for now, I'll try not to let it… explosively awaken."

The group laughed. "Well," Ruby said as she started for the main door, "I hate to cut our visit short, but we're gonna head down to the docks ourselves! See all the people that are starting to arrive."

"Oh, it's quite alright" Markus said, opening the door for them. "I didn't mean to keep you for any longer than necessary." He felt his Scroll vibrate in his pocket, but ignored it.

"Bye, Markus!" Ruby said as she stepped out.

"I'm coming back for more tea sometime," Blake said, stopping just short of the threshold.

"Shoot!" Markus exclaimed. "That address!"

"Send it to me." She gave a small wave. "Bye."

Markus then felt a punch on his shoulder. "Better let me know how it goes, stud!" Yang said with a wink.

He could only smile. "I will."

Weiss followed Yang closely. "Bye, Markus."

"Bye, Weiss. And -" he held out a hand that made her stop, "- thank you."

She smiled warmly. "You're welcome."

When the door closed, Markus turned his attention to his Scroll, seeing a message from Blake:

" _Light trail happened several times when you and I fought."_

Markus closed his Scroll. "Huh."

* * *

"But then, out of the crowd, there came a man who was no older than… I want to say fifteen." Markus was regaling Velvet with one of his Justicar stories while they waited for their dessert. "He comes forward, just as confused as could be, looked down at my assaulter, looks back to me, looked back down, and said, 'Well, it looks like you -' he put on sunglasses '- just got served.'"

Velvet was holding a teacup, but had to quickly set it down on its saucer, putting a hand on her mouth and trying to suppress her laughter. It wasn't working, as she was nearly rolling out of her chair. "Oh, no!" she managed to get out between laughter fits. "No he did not!"

"Velvet, you and I both know that if I try to lie, I start stuttering uncontrollably," he said.

This caused another hysterical fit from Velvet. Eventually she managed to regain control. "Goodness! I haven't laughed like that since… since -"

"The spire?"

"Since after the spire," she corrected as she brought a napkin to an eye. "Oof! I think I just laughed off what I ate!"

Markus couldn't help but to laugh at her statement when he noticed a server nearing. "Don't say that just yet."

The server, with a small serving tray in hand, stopped at their stable. "One raspberry crème brûlée with two spoons?"

"Yes, right here," Markus said. The server placed the bowl in the center of their small table. "Thank you, greatly." The server smiled, and resumed her other duties.

"It's nice to see someone kind to the waitstaff," Velvet observed. "'Please,' 'thank you,' 'I don't request strange alterations to my order.'"

Markus picked up one of the spoons, offering it to Velvet. "Manners were… well-driven in by High Justice Ignar."

Velvet took the spoon, scooping out a bite. "That was your main instructor in Camaden, yeah?"

Markus followed after Velvet's spoon departed from the dessert. "Main instructor, and man in whose house I lived."

"Mmmm," Velvet hummed as she tasted the crème brûlée. She pointed at it with her spoon. "This is heavenly. So rich and creamy, and the raspberries have just the right amount of tart."

Markus savored the flavors of his own bite. "Yes, yes it is." He looked around at the open balcony on which they sat. "This was quite the find."

"Did you and Verde find it?" Velvet asked, taking another spoonful.

"Team TRNP and I found it," Markus said as he went in again. "When I was released from the medical wing, the Team insisted they take me somewhere. They wanted to repay me for getting them out of a complication that occurred during our mission together. We were walking along the boardwalk here when I pointed to this place. When they all said they hadn't been here, I said, 'Then that's where we're going to go.' And the rest is history."

Velvet dabbed at her lip with a napkin. "A fantastic find via non-association."

The two finished their dessert and departed, Markus picking up the bill. The Sun had not yet set, and Velvet suggested they take a walk around the city. Markus promptly agreed, offering an arm to her, when she gladly took. They walked for fifteen minutes, discussing various topics before resting on a bench that overlooked the bay.

They sat in relative silence when a lost thought returned to Velvet. "I meant to ask something earlier, when you were talking about your instructor."

"Mmhmm?" Markus hummed, urging her to continue.

"Do you ever think about going back to Camaden?"

Markus looked across the bay, in the general direction of his homeland. He dr4ew a breath through his nose, smelling the heavy, salty air. His mind flooded with the memories of the boat ride to Vale. "Occasionally," he said as he let the breath go. "Maybe for a visit when the year ends, just to let the people at the Hall of Vigil know I'm still alive." Markus leaned back putting an arm around Velvet. "I do miss the crisp, cool air on a Camaden Summer day… and High Justice Ignar." She felt him hug tighter. "He was the closest thing I had to a father."

Velvet leaned into him, taking his free hand in hers. "I could go with you, if you wanted," she softly said. "Finally see when land that made you."

He turned to her. "I would like nothing better," he said no louder than a whisper. Velvet could do nothing but smile. Markus leaned ever closer, hesitantly moving his lips toward hers before finally making contact just as the Sun set fully before the horizon. Her thin but soft lips still tasted faintly of raspberry. They parted, bringing their foreheads together, both with smiles that could light an entire world.

A vibration from Velvet's Scroll caused her to pull away. "Who's that? Markus asked.

"It's Coco," she answered, putting away her Scroll. "I did tell her I would be back by now."

Markus looked to the remaining light of the day. "It is getting late, I suppose."

Velvet yawned, causing Markus to yawn in return. "And it was an early morning," she said, "but it was a great day."

"The best day," he said, leaning for another kiss, which Velvet happily returned. "But we probably should be getting back."

"Most likely," Velvet agreed. The pair walked hand-in-hand in an uneventful trip back to the student dorms.

They stopped just outside Velvet's room. "Well, this is where we must part," she sadly said.

"For now."

"Any plans tomorrow?"

Markus, briefly forgetting what day it was, ran his schedule through his mind. "Not as of yet," he finally replied.

"Do you want to -"

"Yes," he answered, not needing her to finish her question. "I'll message you when I'm awake."

"Hopefully not that early," Velvet said with a huff of a laugh.

"I dunno," Markus said, playfully grinning. "I might sleep in. Might have too many good dreams tonight."

Velvet broke into a smile and gave him a shove. "Now you're just being cheesy." She closed the distance and put a hand behind his head. "I love it." They shared a prolonged kiss, Markus moving a hand to her soft cheek, before slowing parting. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Markus said as he watched her enter her room. When the door latched, he turned toward the elevator, a happy tune in his mind and warmth in his heart. _Good dreams, indeed._

While in the elevator, an unexpected buzz came from his Scroll. _Is she messaging me already?_ He opened the device. _Nope._

" _Ship has set sail. Will be here early Sunday afternoon. G.G._ "


	6. Hook, Line, and Sinker

"And what would be the last thing you'd expect to see on this volcanic island?" the male announcer on the projection TV said. "A waddle of penguins. Thousands gather on this remote equatorial island every year to mate."

Markus and Velvet laid cuddled together on his couch, facing the TV but only paying it half attention, as they had been for most of the day. "I love lazy Sundays," Velvet said with a sigh.

He brought an arm around, taking Velvet in a hug from behind. "They certainly are the best. I didn't know a lazy Sunday existed until I came here."

She spun to face him, putting both hands on his cheeks. "Oh, you poor thing," she said with mock empathy before pulling him in for a kiss.

Markus's Scroll, forgotten on the kitchen island from lunch, sounded off with an alert, causing them both to groan. Markus moved to step over Velvet when she pushed him back to the back rest. "Nuh uh," she hummed.

"I have to," he whispered back, stepping over again. "I'm expecting a message from Professor Ozpin," he reached an unfolded his Scroll, sighing, "which I have just received."

"Oh?" she said, sitting up. "What's it say?"

He closed his device. "That our preparations are almost complete."

"What preparations?" She looked over the couch to Markus when he didn't respond. "More secret stuff, isn't it?" she asked as she put her chin on the back cushion.

Markus placed his Scroll down. "Yes it is, but I don't mind telling you, since I don't think you're behind this latest string of Dust thefts." He sat on a nearby stool. "That, and I can't keep everything from you."

"I mean, if you can't say anything about it, I understand, but -"

"Technically, nobody said I couldn't say anything about it," he said leaning on the island. "A large shipment of Dust has just arrived from the Atlas Academy, in Schnee Dust Company containers, and it's currently being unloaded down at the docks. We're hoping that whomever is doing the thieving will catch wind of the shipment, and try to take it."

"That's… surprisingly subtle for Atlas." Velvet watched as Markus moved from the stool and into his bedroom, leaving the door ajar. "Or did you come up with it?"

"That was me," Markus said as he opened his dogi dresser. "Shocking, isn't it?"

"So what's the endgame of your plan?" Velvet asked.

"Capture one of the operatives, interrogate them, and find out what they've been doing with all the Dust they've been stealing." He pulled out his jet black dogi and its grey long sleeve undershirt, perfect for nighttime surveillance and infiltration. He dressed himself in his chosen attire, then walked back into the main room.

"Oooh," Velvet cooed as she have Markus's dogi a look. "The dark and mysterious warrior."

Markus huffed a laugh. "Mysterious? Maybe. Dark? Hardly. My blasted Camaden complexion forces me to wear long sleeves at night."

Velvet smiled in amusement before her face showed concern. "Are you heading out soon?"

Markus glanced at a clock. "I plan on waiting until it gets closer to dusk before going to my observation post."

"You're just observing?" she asked.

"Yes, and taking one for questioning. Probably some lackey, easily subdued."

Velvet's tense posture suddenly relaxed as she fell back into the couch. She breathed a sigh of relief. "Good."

Markus joined her on the couch. "Concerned for me already?" he jokingly asked.

"I am," Velvet replied, not joking.

"Nothing's going to happen," Markus assured her. "I'm just going to sit and watch, take one, and call it a night. But for now," he pulled Velvet onto his lap, "we've got some time to burn."

* * *

" _Solo mission are some of the hardest you will ever have to undertake,_ " Verde's voice rang out in Markus's mind, " _not because of the lack of support, though that doesn't help, but because you are alone with your own thoughts. You begin to think, and that in itself can be the most dangerous part of the mission._ "

 _I'm thinking this might be a waste of time,_ Markus own mind thought as he peered through his binoculars.

 _It's only been three hours,_ another part of his mind responded. _Patience._

Markus had arrived at his observation post just as the last shipping container was being unloaded. He watched as the sailors received their pay for the job before heading into town to spend it. One of the sailors opened a Scroll after receiving his share, and sent a quick message. _Suspicious,_ Markus thought as he continued to watch the man. _Could be an informant._ The sailor turned, revealing a neatly rolled up tail. _Hmmm… highly suspicious._

Three and a half hours later, Markus laid on a warehouse roof, cloaked in a the full cover of night, digital binoculars affixed to the stacked containers. His eyes flashed to the display's clock, mentally noting how much time had passed since the sailor's message had been sent.

He slowly reached for his supply cache on his right, fumbling around for and grabbing a snack bar, gently tearing the paper wrapping he had covered it in. _It makes less noise,_ Verde's words repeated in his head, _and doesn't reflect light like the foil. And, you know… biodegradable._ He took a bite, grinding the morsel between his teeth in circular motions to reduce chewing noises, just as Verde had taught him.

Markus was about to take another bite when a flash of movement caught his attention from atop another warehouse on the far side of the yard. He focused on with his viewfinder on the new figure. _Male, definitely Faunus, not the one from earlier, though. White shirt, sticking out like a sore thumb, and…_ he saw the unknown look down and speak, holding out an apple with his hand. A figure on the roof moved, illuminating their face.

 _Blake!_ Markus pulled away from his binoculars. "By the Mother, what are you doing out here?" he said under his breath. He had little time to dwell, as the engines of a Bullhead transport roared from above. _Same thing I am, it appears._

The Bullhead searched with its spotlights, finally touching down in an open area between crates. As the craft powered down, a ramp extended, and out walked a member of the White Fang, clad in the traditional uniform of their common foot soldier.

 _White Fang?_ Markus thought as he refocused on the trooper, with more exiting the vehicle. _They were the last people I expected. What are they doing here?_

"Hey!" a voice yelled. "What's the holdup? We're not the exactly the most inconspicuous bunch of thieves at the moment. So why don't you animals try to pick up the pace."

 _Roman Torchwick_ , Markus thought as the voice's owner came into view. _Now there's a presence that makes sense, but the two of them together does not._

A dark blur snuck up behind Roman, putting a sword at his neck. _Oh, no._ Markus pulled his head up. _No, no, no. What are you doing, Blake?_ The last thing Markus saw before vaulting off the roof was Blake removing her bow, speaking to the White Fang guards. Markus landed, sprinting toward the group when he stopped his stride as two more Bullheads appeared. "I wouldn't exactly call it a little operation!" he heard Roman yell.

An explosion caused Markus to refocus. _That came from Roman,_ he deduced from the smoke. _Tactical analysis: Cane is a Dust-based projectile weapon._ The detonation sent Blake tumbling away while Roman continued to fire.

"Hey, you!" someone said from behind him. Markus heard the _click_ of a safety being thrown. "You're not supposed -" the White Fang trooper was cut off by Markus's fist, hitting him square on the arch of his cheek. It sent him back, forcing him to drop his weapon.

Markus picked up the firearm. "Shush! I'm thinking," he said while disassembling the weapon. The metal fell to the ground as the soldier rolled in pain. Markus began his advance when he saw a banana peel fall on Roman. Roman looked up in time to see the unknown Faunus bring both feet down onto him, making Markus cringe. "Ohhh!" he said aloud. "That had to hurt."

Two of the guards turned to Markus and charged. Markus assumed his Thaw pose. _Spinning flurry kick._ Markus waited as they approached, then jumped and swung himself around, hitting the first guard with the outside of his left foot, and the second with the inside of his right, landing sprawled. The two guards fell, motionless.

The two other Bullheads dropped more White Fang, engaging the unknown Faunus. "Well," Roman began, raising his cane at Markus, "you're a cut from a different cloth, aren't ya?" Markus reassumed his Thaw pose as the end of Roman's cane opened. "It's been an eventul night, but I haven't the time for you heroes."

Markus surprised Roman when he stood normally, beginning to walk in his direction. Roman fired, sending a bright projectile toward Markus. It hit, but instead of a brilliant flash of fire an explosiveness, it simply puffed into a ball of smoke, pushing Markus's shoulder back from where it hit.

Markus looked down on the impact site, brushing off a few stray embers. "Huh," he said in observation. "That answers that with a certainty."

Roman gazed down to his cane in bewilderment. "What!?" he yelled in disbelief. "What are you?"

"Just as you said," Markus said as he resumed his walk, reaching behind his back. "A cut from another cloth."

Roman swung his cane around for a strike when it was caught by a blade brought forward by Markus. Roman glanced at the weapon, noting it was of no ordinary metal, if it was metal at all. The blade was a creamy white, a stark contrast to his outfit, six inches in length, with a slight curve toward its sharpened edge. "Here I thought you were a weirdo without a weapon."

"Situational awareness," Markus grunted as the two struggled. "You forced it out."

Roman grinned, pulling his cane downward. _He's gonna shoot the ground!_ Markus's mind screamed. _You're resistant to Dust, not to propelled concrete! Disengage and reset!_ Markus began to push against Roman to back away, but a familiar pressure built in his chest and lunged forward. Instead of the pressure hitting the target in from of him, Markus was propelled back just as the cane fired, his back hitting a container hard enough to leave a dent, then landing face-first on the ground.

Roman recovered from the proximal detonation, just as surprised as Markus was at his escape. "No Semblance control, eh?" he said, taking am again.

"Hey!" Ruby's voice echoed from across the yard.

"Red!" Roman yelled back. "Isn't it past your bedtime?" The cane pointed to a distracted Ruby, sending a projectile toward her. Markus hazily saw its explosion, and Ruby rolling away.

Markus stood on unsteady feet, his head ringing. As his vision refocused, he saw Blake and her unknown partner engaging Roman while a new figure dropped down to fight White Fang reinforcements, quite handily dispensing of them. The redheaded warrior fought with suspended blades attached to nothing, which made Markus shake his head. _Am I seeing things? No, that can't be possible._

The spinup of a Bullhead's cannon brought Markus back to earth. He moved to cover peering around to see a green blast come from the girl, severing the two strafing Bullheads. He came out of cover in awe. _These people keep getting weirder._

A Bullhead attempted to lift off with a container. _Good,_ Markus thought. _This all won't have_ \- His thought was cut off as blades impaled themselves on the hull. Markus saw the faintest hint of lines, pointing back to the unknown girl. As she walked backward, she seemed to pull the Bullhead with her. With one final pull, the Bullhead crashed into a stack of containers.

 _Ugh, Ironwood's gonna be angry about that one._ Engines powering up and the absence of other White Fang led markus to conclude they were about to retreat. He saw one of the Bullheads takeoff, and sprinted after it, but was too late as it and another flew into the night. He watched as they departed, letting out a disappointed breath as she sheathed his blade.

"Markus," Blake said from behind him. "What are you doing here?"

"I could say the same for you. I'm trying to recover plans that you and your friend's arrival set awry," Markus said, doing his best not to sound annoyed.

The unknown Faunus stepped from behind Blake. "You mean -"

"They were meant to take this Dust, yes," Markus said as he spun around. "These containers all have trackers on them. They were to lead us to where all the other stolen Dust was going." He put his hands on his hips. "Where's the rest of your team, Blake, and -" he gestured to the other person beside her, "- who might this be?"

"I'm Sun," he said, extending a hand. "You handled yourself pretty well out there, Markus."

"Likewise," Markus said, shaking his hand.

"And I'm Penny!" the redheaded girl announced. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance!"

"So where's the rest of your team, Blake?" Markus asked.

Penny gasped. "Oh! You're Ruby's missing teammate!"

"Missing?" Markus said, eyeing Blake.

She looked away. "You were right."

"About… what?"

"I would let it out before I had a chance to tell them."

"Oh," Markus said in understanding. "So you ran from them when you needed your team the most."

"I panicked, okay?"

Sun pointed to Markus. "So he knows about -"

"Yes," Blake interrupted his question.

"For about a year now," Markus added on.

"A year?" Sun asked, astounded. "How's that possible?"

The wail of sirens sounded in the distance. "Another story for another time," Markus said as he turned away. "I need to collect my things and report back."

"Markus," Blake called out as he walked away. "That light trail happened again, as you were moving to the container."

He glanced back, giving an acknowledging nod. "You need to get back to your team," he said back. "They won't care, so long as you tell them."

* * *

" _Queen has pawns,_ " the message read. Professor Ozpin hummed in thought as a ding came from the elevator door. "Come in." Markus stepped through, backpack and digital binoculars in hand. "Markus. How was the mission?"

"Botched," Markus answered, placing the binoculars on Ozpin's desk, "by an untimely appearance by two members of Team RWBY and two other individuals."

"'Botched?'"

"The Dust remains unstolen, and we remain in the dark as to where the other Dust has gone." Markus removed a memory card from the binoculars. "However, it wasn't completely all for naught. We did learn that Roman Torchwick's organization is in league with the White Fang, or vice versa."

Ozpin looked at the card. "Did you learn of this through a Meld?"

Markus shook his head. "They retreated before I had a chance. I know this because he was there with those trying to take the Dust."

"I see," Professor Ozpin said. He leaned forward on his desk, bringing his hands together. "This won't sit well with Ironwood. Any ideas on what we do now?"

Markus shrugged. "Same thing we always do," he said, turning to leave. "We keep moving forward."

* * *

Markus entered his room, lit only by the light of Sister Moon. He placed his pack by his bookcase, intending to unpack it on the morrow. He entered his bathroom, discarding his dogi in a laundry hamper and taking a shower, washing the evening's events off of him. He slipped on a pair of shorts before quietly entering his bedroom, seeing the already sleeping figure of Velvet nestled in his sheets.

He sighed. _Maybe this isn't a good idea if I'm going to be out there, risking life and limb on "secret" missions._ He gently slipped into his bed, cuddling up next to her. Velvet responded by easing into him, giving a relieved sigh.

 _You're right,_ he thought as he delicately kissed the back of her neck. _I wouldn't have it any other way._


	7. Saving the Saviors

"Listen, you little punk," Roman said in frustration as he pointed at Mercury. "If it were up to me, I would take you and your little street-rat friend here and I would -"

"Do what, Roman?" a voice echoed through the warehouse. Mercury, Emerald, and Roman looked to the source of the voice to see Cinder talked to the edge of the second level. A lift brought her down to the ground.

Roman let out a nervous laugh. "I'd, uh… not kill them?"

"Cinder!" Emerald called out in elation.

"I thought I made it clear that you were to eliminate the would-be runaway," Cinder said as she walked toward the group.

"I was going to!" Roman countered.

" _He_ was going to escape to Vacuo," Emerald told Cinder. "Mercury and I decided to take it upon ourselves to kill the rat."

Mercury turned to Emerald. "I think he was some kind of cat, actually."

"What, like a puma?"

"Yeah, there ya go."

"Quiet," Cinder ordered with a scowl. "Did I not specifically instruct you two to keep your hands clean while in Vale?"

Emerald began to scratch her head in nervousness. "I just thought -"

"Don't think," Cinder interrupted. "Obey."

"Yes, ma'am." Emerald's head went down in shame. "It won't happen again."

Cinder turned back to Roman. "And you. Why wasn't this job done sooner?"

"Uh," Roman managed to get out before pointing to a pile of nearby containers with his cane. "Eh?" He swung it around to his other side, pointing to another stack. "Eh!?" Roman opened his arms, gesturing to the entire warehouse. "EHHH!? Sorry if I've been a little busy stealing every speck of Dust in the kingdom."

Mercury couldn't help but to let out a grunt for a laugh. "Yeah? And how did that last robbery of yours turn out for you?"

"It would have been fine, if Red and her snotty friends hadn't been there!" Roman balled his fists. "Fifty shipping containers, packed to the brim, ripe for the plundering!"

"Oh, Roman," Cinder said as she walked to him, placing two fingers on his cheek. "Your eyes look, but they do not see."

Roman pulled away with a grumble. "See what?"

Emerald stepped forward. "A huge Dust shipment suddenly arrives in Vale from the Schnee Dust Company -"

"If that's really where they came from," Mercury added.

"- when Dust prices are nearing an all-time high, with no security around it," Emerald placed her hands on her hips, "and that didn't seem a bit suspicious to you."

Roman glared at Emerald from around Cinder. "Did you just accuse me of falling for a trap?" He gave a laugh. "No one in the Vale Police Department has that kind of dastardly cunning!"

"Then maybe it wasn't V.P.D.," Mercury suggested. "Maybe it was someone from Beacon."

"What would a school of soon-to-be dead heroes care about Dust?"

"Enough," Cinder said, bringing them to silence. She pointed to Roman. "You foolishly threw caution into the wind, and nearly jeopardized months of meticulous planning. Worse still, whoever set this trap now knows of your association with the White Fang." She turned to leave. "But it no longer matters. We're done with Dust. Have the White Fang clear out this warehouse. I will send you coordinates later tonight."

"Coordinates?" Roman asked under his breath.

Cinder stopped and looked back. "Despite your best effort to delay us, we're proceeding to phase two."

Emerald gave Roman one last glance. "Try to see better next time."

Roman swung his cane around at Emerald's eyes, stopping just before making contact. "You wanna know something I _did_ see, sweetheart? I saw one of Red's little friends take a direct shot from mister Melodic Cudgel here, and he brushed it off like a punch from a three-year old in a pillow fight." He moved the cane back down. "Now, I already know what you're gonna say, so save it. I only use the cleanest and most refined Dust we take, because I'm selfish like that. He was supposed to be lit up in a fiery explosion. Instead, it was a poof of red smoke and a mild inconvenience." Roman pushed back on Emerald's shoulder with the handle. "So you had better watch it. This one is of a different sort. He might even prove to be a match for you."

* * *

Markus walked silently to the elevator, his eyes still heavy with exhaustion. He was about to his a button to summon a car when Glynda emerged from parting doors. "Heading up?"

"Yes," Markus quietly answered.

"Good luck," Glynda said as she reached over and smoothed out a patch of rough hair on Markus. "Ironwood is in an annoyingly cheerful mood." She was about to step away when she added, "You still haven't been sleeping well, have you?"

"No," Markus said.

She sighed. "It must be bad when you start saying 'no.' Professor Ozpin wishes to discuss that with you, as well."

 _Splendid_ , Markus thought as he took the car. He watched as the doors closed, feeling the lunge of pressure as he began to ascend. He shook himself awake, hoping that neither Professor Ozpin or General Ironwood would notice his disheveled state. The elevator car stopped, and Markus waited to gain access to Professor Ozpin's office.

The doors opened, and the first person he was was Ironwood, starting to stand. "Markus!" he said in greeting.

Markus walked to the desk, before giving Ironwood a nod. "General."

Ironwood gave Markus a quick inspection. "You're… looking a little worse for ware."

"I know," was Markus's only response.

"Which is why I called him here," Ozpin said from behind his desk. "General, if you would excuse us, I need to confide with my student."

"Of course," Ironwood said. He spun to leave, then paused. "But ask yourself this, Oz. Do you honestly believe your children can win a war?" He resumed his departure.

The doors on the elevator taking General Ironwood closed. "I hope they never have to." He turned to Markus, gesturing to a chair. "How are you doing, Markus?"

Markus sat. "I'm f-f-f-" he stammered, "f-f-f-fine."

"No," Ozpin said, "you most certainly are not. I didn't need you tripping over your Truthsense to tell me that your friend's untimely demise still weighs heavily upon you." He poured a refill into his mug, then reached into his desk for another. "Your instructors say that you have become rather distant, choosing only to speak when forced to answer, if you are even in class at all." Professor Ozpin filled the empty mug and slid it to Markus. "Even your friends have taken notice of your absence." He stood, walked around his desk, and placed a caring hand on Markus's shoulder. "I know he was your friend…"

Markus breathed. Smelling the aroma of coffee, and immediately thinking of Velvet. "Tukson was the first friend I made in Vale," he quietly said, taking a sip afterward. "After Verde and I stepped off the boat, he was the one that eventually showed me that no soul was beyond redeeming."

"Yes, and his store was his redeeming path; to give people access to knowledge so they would not follow his footsteps. Your contribution to it let him fulfill his redemption the best he could."

"It wasn't enough, though." Markus took another sip.

"I believe it might have been," Ozpin said, retaking his seat. "True, his past did eventually catch up with him, but he, like Miss Belladonna, have seen the errors of their ways, and sought to… bring their lives back into balance.

Markus huffed a laugh. "Were it so easy."

Professor Ozpin sighed. "You know, I did manage to read a copy of that book you gave him. I even have my favorite passage written here." He reached into his desk, pulling out a notecard, reading aloud:

For the Maiden said unto the Warrior, "Say not in grief, 'He is no more,' but live in thankfulness that he was, that he could write his own verse in the great poem we know as our lives. Rejoice in this, and neither he, nor you, will ever know the touch of Death."

Markus sighed, as the words of the passage tumbled in his mind. "That was always a striking part."

"And a necessary point." Ozpin brought his hands together on his desk. "When we lose someone close, there is always time to grieve. Eventually, though, we must shift away from their death, and think fondly upon their lives. After all, that is how we knew them."

Markus set down his mug, lifted himself from his chair, and knelt, taking a deep breath. He turned outstretched arms away from him. "From Dust did we begin," he brought open palms over his heart, "and to Dust, will we return." He opened his eyes and stood again. "He is with the Earth Mother now."

"Yes, he is," Ozpin said with a nod. "Welcome back."

Markus sat, bringing a hand to his forehead. "I can't believe I let my grief get to me."

"Even the saviors need saving, sometimes."

Markus hummed in agreement. "You're not wrong."

"How are you feeling now?"

He reached for his coffee mug, the smell of the coffee now a heavenly aroma. "Better."

"Good," Ozpin said, reaching into his jacket. "Feeling up for a walk-about?"

"I figured you needed me for something," Markus said.

Professor Ozpin removed, then handed Markus a piece of trifolded paper. "I'll give you the short version," he said as Markus opened the sheet. "Two Bullheads have gone missing from a southern extension of the Vale Armed Forces Reserves. One of them was taken directly from the base by an assumed conspirator, while another was forced down during a routine patrol."

"Is the crew still missing?"

"They are. A pilot and copilot are still listed as M.I.A."

"Any indication pointing to a culprit?"

"V.A.F.R intelligence suspects White Fang, since they have observed an increase in activities in known southern cells."

Markus looked back up to Professor Ozpin. "You don't sound convinced."

"I have learned that correlation often does not indicate causation."

"Is that insightful, or wishful, thinking?"

Professor Ozpin let out a breath. "I suppose it is wishful. With the evidence that was uncovered by your trap, coupled with the sudden cessation in Dust robberies, and now this…" he paused to take a long draw from his mug. "I fear you may be right in your assumption, that whatever Roman Torchwick or his allies are planning, it may soon come to bear."

"We'll just have to be vigilant," Markus said, refolding the paper. "Even more so, with all the student and people moving though for the Vytal Festival." He took a momentary pause in the conversation to ponder over his new mission. "Why did you give this mission to me?"

"This particular task is well-suited to someone of your talents, as well as your natural acclimation to colder regions. During this latest round of student deployments, we may have taken in more requests than the available teams could accommodate."

Markus gave Professor Ozpin a deadpan look. "No one took it because it was cold where I'm going, wasn't it?"

Professor Ozpin shrugged. "Perhaps."

"I'll just take that as a yes." Markus stood. "When do I leave?"

"Early tomorrow morning," Ozpin said, joining Markus in standing. "I already have a pilot standing by for you. Also," he hefted a backpack onto his desk with the Atlas insignia upon it. "I told General Ironwood of your mission -"

"You knew I would take it before I even got here."

"- and he requested that you take this. It's an experimental prototype, not to be opened until you are airborne."

Markus took the pack. "I suppose I do owe him for my failed plan. Very well, then. I will begin making preparations, and should probably go get some actual rest."

"This would be best. I will send the rest of the details to your Scroll."

* * *

"Why do you think you get to play Vacuo?" Ruby whined.

"Because I won last time!" Yang shouted.

"Hey!" Ren, sitting at another table with the rest of Team JNPR in various levels of consciousness, said to Team RWBY. "Library. Reading. Shhhh!"

"Sorry, Ren!" Yang quietly said. "Anyway, last time we played, I was the grand conqueror of Remnant, so I get to pick which kingdom I want to play!"

"Alright, if you're going to bring our house rules into it," Ruby threw a finger over toward Blake and Weiss, "I invoke the 'New Player' rule!"

"Harumph," Yang grumbled. "Fine, we'll roll for who plays what kingdom."

The team heard a familiar laugh. "Breakdowns in diplomacy already?"

They turned toward the voice. "Hey! There he is!" Yang exclaimed happily as Markus approached. "Where've you been, buddy?"

Markus hung his head. "Shamefully brooding over the death of a friend."

The two teams gave Markus an inquisitive look. "There's no shame in grieving for the loss of a friend," Weiss said from her seat. "Why do you say there is?"

Markus leaned on a nearby chair. "It's another cultural difference. A Camaden sees death as just another cog on the wheel. It's going to be part of our existence, and we know it, so why make a big deal of it?" He scratched an itch on his nose. "The turnaround time for a Camaden in mourning is… uncomfortably quick in the eyes of most other cultures. There is a time for grieving, and it passed a while ago. I shamed myself by focusing on his death, and not his life."

Blake looked stunned. "That's a very progressive way to view death."

"That's exactly what Professor Oobleck said when I first told him about Camaden funeral rights," Markus said. He then noticed the board game sitting on the table. "Ah, 'Conquerors.' The game responsible for more destroyed friendships than a fantasy Grifball league."

"Have you played before?" Ruby asked.

"Once. I sat in for a couple of rounds when Team TRNP was still here." He laughed at a sudden memory. "I crit failed a roll when I attempted an attack with the Atlasian air force. They were all taken in a Vacuo sandstorm." Both teams shared a quiet laugh. "I'm good at many things, but rolling dice is not one of them."

Blake seemed unphased by the humor. "We were about to play. You can take my spot, if you want."

Markus shook his head. "Unfortunately, I have to go rest. I was just coming by to say 'hello.' My Bullhead leaves tomorrow morning at oh-three-hundred." His statement garnered looks from both teams, except from Nora, who continued to sleep. "Oh," he held out his folded paper. "I've got marching orders."

"Ohhh!" they all said in unison.

"Pancakes!" Nora shouted in a brief return to the waking world.

"So where ya headed?" Jaune asked.

"South." Markus stood upright. "Two Vale Bullheads have been stolen, one of them being hijacked with crew still aboard. I've been tasked with finding the crew, and, if possible, the missing Bullheads." He slowly leaned. "And I need something to do while Velvet's gone."

"We figured that's why you weren't around," Yang said.

"What, Velvet being going?"

"Yeah."

Markus threw out a dismissing hand. "Hardly. I know she'll be safe with her team. But, anyway," he bowed, "I will take my leave."

"Good luck!" Ruby called out as Markus left. "Now," she said as she opened the game box, pulling out a twelve-sided die, "roll for kingdoms!" the die was sent tumbling, landing on a two. "Dangit!"

* * *

At zero-two-fifty hours the next morning, Markus walked out of the staff dormitory, supply and prototype bag in hand. The light from the shattered Moon shone down on the path, guiding him to the landing pad. He saw a faint glow of a light coming from the student dorms, about where Team RWBY's room would be.

He suddenly felt as if he was being watched. "Hello!" a cheerful voice called out.

Markus jumped in surprise. "By the Mother, Phyrra! You about scared the soul out of me!"

"Oh! I'm sorry!" she quickly apologized. "I didn't mean to startle you!"

"It's alright, you just caught me off-guard. I didn't expect anyone to be out this late." He looked up to the Moon. "Speaking of, why are you out here in the middle of the night?"

"Oh, well," she put a hand behind her head, "since I know that Velvet isn't here, I thought I'd come out and see you off!"

Markus's brow furrowed. "Well, that's very kind of you, but there's no need to lose sleep over me." He started to walk again.

"I know," she began as she followed, "but, as your friend, I felt compelled to personally wish you well on your mission."

"And that involves coming out and nearly giving me a heart attack before I even leave?"

"I said sorry!"

Markus quietly laughed. "You're too easily teased," he said as an arm went around her shoulders. "I appreciate you being here, nonetheless."

He felt Phyrra relax. "Well, you're welcome," she replied. "It's the least I could do without personally coming with you."

"I don't know if you would want to." His arm moved down, taking hers. "This mission is most likely going to involve me following the tracks of two Vale Reservists blindly wandering around the southern tundra. Boring stuff, I assure you."

"Still, to be out there alone…"

"I won't be entirely alone," he said as he looked to the waiting Bullhead.

A female figure, inspecting the exterior of the craft, turned to see the approaching group. "'Eeeeeeeeyyy, Markus!" her voice pierced through the night's silence.

"'Eeeeeeeyyy, Castillo!" Markus returned with equal enthusiasm.

The figure approached, and Phyrra could make out short-cropped blonde hair and a pilot's jumpsuit. "Whaddaya know, Markus?" Castillo asked.

Markus removed the arm carrying Phyrra's, bumping forearms with Castillo. "Too much, and none of it's good."

"Ah, the burden of knowledge," she said before gazing at Phyrra. "Is this your lady-friend?"

"N-n-no, no," Phyrra said. "We're not dating! Just friends!"

Castillo took a closer look. "Wait, I recognize you. You're Phyrra Nikos! 'The Invincible Girl!'"

"Yes, that is how some people know of me," Phyrra said, letting an errant hair fall on her face.

"She's here to see us off, Castillo," Markus said as he threw his bags into the Bullhead. "She doesn't need any of your grief."

"Hah! I gotcha." Castillo gave Phyrra a quick salute. "Well, it was good to meet you."

"Likewise," Phyrra said.

Castillo turned back to the Bullhead. "We should be ready to go whenever. Just give the word."

"Alright," he said before walking back to Phyrra. "Well, thank you for joining me on my walk here. This was an unexpected, but joyous, surprise."

They both embraced in a warm hug, with Markus hearing Phyrra sigh as he held her. "Will you be back in time for the dance?" she asked as they parted.

"I don't know," he answered. "It's difficult to tell when I'll be back at the moment."

"He likes to make his missions run long," Castillo said from behind them, "so I wouldn't count on him being back in time for anything."

Markus was about to bring a counter, but failed. "She's not wrong," he said.

"Oh," she sadly said. "Well then," she perked back up, "I wish you luck, and may the wind be at your back."

He smiled. "Been researching into some Camaden culture and phrases, have you?"

"A bit."

Markus gave Phyrra one last, quick hug. "Thank you." He turned. "Hold down the fort while I'm gone, will you?"

"We will." Phyrra began to walk back to the school grounds, hearing the friendly banter between Markus and Castillo.

"So how are they hanging, nowadays?"

"Well, I've still got my youthful bounce and firmness."

She heard Markus laugh. "Never change, Castillo!"

Phyrra stopped and faced the Bullhead, watching it power up, ascend, and fly south, before letting out a yawn. _Earth Mother be with you, Markus Frude._


	8. Out and About

_He was running._

 _Markus ran through a rolling grassland with jovial carelessness, glancing to his right to see Verde running alongside him. Her smile gleamed in the evening Sun, as the tall blades of grass gently caressed their flowing figures._

 _A rumble of thunder came from the north. The pair stopped, seeing billowing black storm clouds growing in size in the distance. The two had suddenly become five, a pair flanking either side of Markus, with the two closest to him being easily recognizable._

 _Verde and Phyrra stepped forward and gave each other knowing nods, followed closely by the ones he did not know, but felt as if he did. The four women began to glow, becoming colors of white, green, yellow, and auburn, and charged toward the storm._

 _Markus sprinted after, but could not match their blinding speed. He attempted to bring forth his Aura in a desperate act to catch up, but as he physically saw the white glow of his Aural energy move in front of himself, he found it harder to run, and he began to slow. He tried to push it away, and it slowed him even more, finally stopping him completely._

 _He started to panic, as he saw the Aural glows of the Maidens begin to dance around a shadowed figure, clashing in brilliant strikes. Markus started to pull up a foot to move once again, but could not. His own Aural energy began to push him to the ground, the weight of it squeezing what little air he had out of him. In a last effort, he reached out to his energy, and pulled in toward his own body._

 _As soon as he began to pull downward, Markus flew into the air several feet, arms and legs flailing in sudden flight as he turned and fell, landing on his back. He arose quickly with a feeling of understanding, making himself into a glowing white light, and charged at the storm._

 _He reformed into his physical body, only to see the Four Maidens captured and bound by black tendrils coming from the central shadow. Their Aural glows were significantly diminished, their light being pulled away, when a tendril came for him._

* * *

Markus awoke, taking a sharp breath and feeling the sudden difference in temperature from when he last knew. His lungs filled and felt the familiar pain of cool air. _Feels like home_ , he thought as he stood, stretching to shake the feeling of sleep from himself.

"Hey!" Castillo's voice shouted in his headset. "You awake back there?"

"Just woke up," Markus staid as he looked out a porthole. "Are we nearly there?"

"We're about ten minutes out. We'll begin descending soon."

"Negative on descent," Markus said as he moved to grab his supply pack.

A silent response came from the headset, denoting to Markus that Castillo was processing his request. "What do you mean 'Negative on descent?' You have a change of heart or somethin'?"

"Quite the contrary," Markus replied. "I'm doing an equipment test for General Ironwood. Descend for a high altitude jump."

He felt the craft angle down in descent. "Whatever you say, man. Recalculating for drop-off jump." The Bullhead leveled out. "Two minutes! Get ready!"

Markus fastened his supply cache to his chest, then grabbed and secured another pack with the Atlas Academy symbol proudly embroidered upon it. He took a pair of jump goggles from the Atlas pack and donned them.

"I thought you didn't care of Atlas tech," Castillo said.

"I usually don't," Markus responded, reaching for his headset. "This one caught my fancy too much."

"Right. One hundred second to drop."

Markus pulled off his headset and hung it on a nearby hook, hitting a switch in the process that opened the side hatch inward. He ducked to let the door swing, observing the mostly barren region lit by the first rays of morning. The push of a button on his goggles made its heads-up display come alive, green lines and numbers showing a level flight indicator, speed, altitude, downrange distance, and time to jump.

He stepped up and braced both arms on the hatch opening, the cold bite of the morning air lessening on his face as the Bullhead slowed. His hands, arms, and legs felt none of the chill, proving that the body liner portion of the test was working, In his HUD, the time to jump flashed by sixty seconds, his landing point now lit by a target reticle.

"Helljumper, Helljumper, where ya been?" he quietly sang to himself as he leaned back. "Been out on a drop, gonna jump again." Markus pulled himself forward, instinctively tucking his head, and fell back first in descent.

He looked back to the Bullhead as it pulled away to the north, heading to a nearby base. Markus turned himself over, spreading his limbs and checking his altitude. He had jumped higher than normal, but was falling rapidly, already down to forty-two hundred meters, and three kilometers downrange from his target.

Another check of his altitude ten seconds later showed he was now below thirty-eight hundred meters, and Markus reached for and grabbed a white pull cord. At thirty-six hundred, he pulled, releasing the Atlas pack.

Metal switchblade sheets sprang from the pack, forming metallic glider wings. The straps pulled on Markus's trunk, nearly squeezing the breath from him. He watched as his speed and his target distance go down as he brought a controller attached to his wrist to in front of himself, giving the rotary dial an adjustment.

The wings responded by changing their inclination, setting his forward and falling speed at a uniform pace. He glided for a full minute before his HUD alerted him to pull his chute, which Markus ignored. The green lines went red, and the projected words of "PULL CHUTE" flashed in the center.

Markus gave it another ten seconds before pulling on a blaze orange cable, deploying a canopy chute and retracting the wings. He flew for another twenty seconds before pulling his legs up and pushing the steering and toggle line forward. He realized he was coming in much faster than normal, putting a foot out and running when his boot made contact.

The parachute caught enough air from behind him to pull Markus to a stop. _Well, that wasn't as unpleasant as I originally thought,_ he silently said to himself as he unbuckled both packs. Markus removed the goggles from his head and the control pad from his wrist, placing them in their respective receptacles on the Atlasian bag. The touchpad flashed the question "Jump complete?" with a "Yes" and "No" option below.

Markus pushed "Yes," backing up in time to see a compartment burst open, releasing Dust. He turned eastward while removing his Scroll. "Day one," he started to say in its audio recorder. "I've completed the Atlasian infiltration technology test, and it has performed admirably. The weight distribution needs work. As the wings were deploying, the air pressure caused the straps to tighten down hard enough that I could not breathe. I've been told that breathing during a freefall is a good thing, and this design flaw might interfere with said function."

He gave a quick glance behind him. "The wing pack itself is being disintegrated by its Dust power cell, as per its design. I'm now heading east to -" he unfolded his Scroll and brought up a map, "- the village of Kansa, which means 'people of the South wind' in Old Vytal. I am now mission begin." He collapsed his Scroll, moved his supply pack to his back, and began to trek east.

* * *

"You don't understand," a visibly exhausted Blake said to Yang. "I'm the only one that can do this!"

Yang quickly spun away from the lecture hall's blackboard, her eyes red with rage. "No, _you_ don't understand!" She furiously extended a pointed finger to the entrance. "If Roman Torchwick came through that door, what would you do?"

"I'd fight him!"

Yang shoved Blake, pushing her back into the main desk. "You'd lose."

Blake threw an arm back, making contact with Yang's shoulder. "I can stop him!"

"You can't even stop me!" Yang gave her another push, sending Blake falling onto the desktop. "Markus couldn't even stop him, and he bested you in the dueling ring before any of this even started!"

"Markus had a Semblance awakening event!" Blake desperately reasoned. "He was distracted, and I'm… I'm…" she paused, reflecting on just where she was. Blake stood, still glaring at Yang, when Yang wrapped both arms around her, tightly embracing in a hug.

"I'm not asking you to stop," Yang quietly said. "Just, please… get some rest. Not just for you, but for the people you care about." She let go, walking up the lecture steps. "And if you feel like coming out tomorrow," Yang winked, "I'll save you a dance."

Blake watched as Yang departed, letting out a tired sigh. " _She's right, you know,"_ she heard as Markus's voice filled her mind. " _You would rather watch yourself be destroyed instead of allowing yourself to have a moment's reprieve. This is not the redeeming path. If you continue this way, time surely will be on Roman's side, and he will have to do nothing but watch as you consume yourself. You_ must _start forgiving yourself. And, for the Mother's sake, get some sleep. You look a right mess."_

 _I wonder how he's doing out there,_ she asked herself.

* * *

"Day two," Markus said into his audio recorder. "I've reached the outskirts of the village of Kansa. I've spent yesterday, and the better portion of today, following a small game trail littered with the remains of human activity. I've found many discarded food wrappers, spent heater packs, a couple of kilometers back I found five lien, and every so often I'll come across a spent bullet casing. If this is White Fang, they're not making any effort to conceal their movements.

"The game trail led to a wider path, which then led to a cobblestone road. Following the continued evidence of human activity has led me east-northeast, and to Kansa. This village, at first glance, almost seems out of place. There doesn't seem to be any kind of nearby natural resources, wood is scarce, and the nearest body of water is five kilometers away, at least. I can only assume this settlement exists because of a well, or it sits at a major crossroad. Either way, the-"

Markus stopped both his recording and step as a single shot rang out. He looked toward the road leading into the village to see a group of people moving their way to him. "Halt!" one yelled. Markus's hands went up. "You are trespassing on our lands! We told your kind that you are no longer welcome here!"

Markus's brow furrowed in confusion. "Uhhh, this is the first time I've -"

"Shut it, Faunus scum!" the one Markus assumed was the leader said. The group was only fifty feet away, drawn weapons pointed and at the ready. "You will answer for your transgressions! We gave you hospitality, and in return, you did nothing but -"

"Hold, kinsman!" an older voice bellowed from behind the militia. "Hold!" Two of the armed men parted to reveal an elder, what remaining hair he had white as snow, cloaked in a long, drab brown overcoat. "Lower your weapons, this instant! This one is not of those who came before him!"

"Uncle, what are you doing out here?" the leader asked. The others had followed the man's order and were beginning to disperse. "I told you I would take care of this interloper."

"No, nephew. I'm stopping you from making a grave mistake," the elder replied. "This one is not with the White Fang."

"How can you be sure?"

"I can see it in his heart." The old man approached, bright hazel eyes vigorously studying Markus. "You can put your hands down, son. They won't hurt you now."

Markus's arms dropped slowly. "The White Fang has been here?"

"They have, and as you have undoubtedly been able to deduce, it was not the most pleasant of experiences." The man's pained expression softened. "But you lack the fury that was in was in their eyes. I see only a noble purpose."

Markus nodded. "I am their pursuer, and a seeker of lost men."

"Ah," the man drew out, raising his head in revelation. "So that is what brings a student this far south, during this turning of the age."

"You could tell I came from Beacon?"

"I assumed, yes." The man walked around Markus patting his pack. "Your bag was the most telling giveaway. Its material and weave are distinctly unique to…" he paused, "let's call them most populated areas." He circled back around. "I may be old, but my eyes are still full of youth."

Markus politely chuckled. "Thank the Mother for that."

The elderly man smiled back. "I am Oran, leader of this village." He dipped his head in a bow.

Markus mimicked his actions. "An honor, sir. I am Markus, of the aforementioned Beacon Academy." He looked to the younger man Oran identified as his nephew. "I must thank you for your timely arrival."

Oran turned to see his nephew walking away. "And I must apologize for their hasty reaction." He faced Markus, gesturing down the road as they began to walk. "My people are pragmatic and cautious. Two necessary qualities this far away from the safety of the city."

"They are good qualities."

"Yes. Standing at the crossroad of three major caravan highways makes one learn to be suspicious of outsiders."

"I can relate, in a unique way."

"Oh? How?"

"I may attend Beacon," Markus said as he stood tall, "but I am originally from Camaden, a small independent nation -"

"Who threw off the mighty shackles of Atlas," Oran finished.

Markus's jaw dropped in disbelief. "You know of Camaden?"

"Oh, of course! The story of how the island nation that broke away from the Atlasian binds with only the strength and resolution of spirit will ring throughout history."

"I'm surprised you have heard of it," Markus said as they stepped into the village. Several wooden buildings surrounded a central well, which was encompassed by a circular stone roadway. He heard the pounding of a hammer on metal, and the grinding of a wheel. "With most people, I have to explain to them where it is."

"There are those of us who choose to learn Remnant's full history, not just the parts which pertain to them."

"I see," Markus said in admiration.

"But, to the business of why you have come." As they turned to enter one of the structures, Markus's stomach grumbled loudly. "Are you hungry, lad?"

"A fair bit." Markus threw a thumb over his shoulder, pointing to his pack. "I did bring my own food, so I will eat once I am back on the road."

"Oh, I implore you to dine with us." Oran opened the wooden door. "It has been some time since we were able to entertain peaceful guests. We were about to begin before your approach was made known to us, and don't think you will be an inconvenience. I've brought in others for dinner often enough, it would not surprise me if they had a plate for you already prepared."

" _If you're ever invited to eat, always accept,_ " Verde's voice said. " _It's an insult to the inviter's character if you refuse._ "

"I'd love to sample your local faire," Markus said.

"Most splendid," Oran said as they entered. "You and I will be able to discuss our mutual problem."

Markus was led into a great meeting hall, a long table and chairs occupying its center. The room itself was warm with a crackling fire on the far end. Markus looked to the table to see three set dining spaces.

"Please, help yourself to a seat," Oran said.

Markus did so, scooting to the table. "Bringing more unexpected guests again, father?" a woman emerged from a closed door. The new figure bore shoulder-length raven black hair, braids running behind each ear from her bangs, an oval face with high cheeks, eleven-shaped piercing purple eyes, wearing a white apron over a blue tunic.

"As I said," Oran directed to Markus, "it is usually expected."

"I assumed you would be bringing a fourth when the shouting stopped." The woman briefly disappeared through the door from which she came, returning with another set of flatware, plate, and cup.

"Markus, this is Lilac, my daughter."

Markus stood. "A pleasure, ma'am."

"'Ma'am?'" she said with a giggle. "How quaint."

"Manners of greeting may have fallen out of favor in the decadent time," Oran said as Markus resumed his seat, "but it gives an old man hope that at least one person still practices them."

"Oh, posh, father," Lilac said as she set the dinnerware. "You'll be happy to know the hunting party managed to track the caribou heard."

"Good," Oran said in relief. "Another unintended consequence of hosting the White Fang, when their true nature was unknown to us. They had driven away the sustenance we require here on the frontier."

"Oh, dear," Markus said, stunned.

"Yes. They also stole, caused a ruckus, and were in numerous fights with my people."

The door opened, revealing Oran's nephew. "Yeah. They came here thinking they ran the place."

"Oh, hush, my son," Lilac said. "Let it go, and introduce yourself."

"The nephew turned to Markus bringing the same purple eyes into view. "I'm Mauve." He sat. "Sorry about earlier."

Markus waved a hand. "Think nothing of it. A healthy dose of paranoia, especially after dealing with White Fang, is well-justified."

Oran reached for a flagon as Lilac retreated back into the other room. "You are surprisingly quick to forgive."

"It was a simple misunderstanding," Markus assured. "Nothing more."

Oran reached for Markus's cup, filling it with a steaming liquid. "To stand so fearlessly in the face of a mob must mean you have a powerful Semblance."

Lilac returned with a platter of food. "Well, my Semblance is unknown to me, at the moment," Markus said.

"I'm surprised," Mauve chimed in. "That's pretty atypical of Beacon to send out the uninitiated, is it not?"

Lilac set the tray in the center of the table, the steam emanating from the prepared steak chops, potatoes, and bread. "I hope you don't mind a meat and potatoes dinner."

Markus smiled. "Not at all. It reminds me of Camaden."

The serving plates began to make their round about the table. "So, your Semblance," Mauve said, returning to the prior conversation. "What's one who doesn't know it doing out here?"

"Try not to be so harsh, nephew," Oran said, taking a drink. "I should like to think those training the future huntsman and huntresses know what they're doing. However, the boy does have a point. I thought students were placed in teams for missions."

Markus took a drink of his own, the warm, sticky sweet beverage flooding his minds with memories of home. _Ah, mead._ "My mission requires a bit of subtlety and subterfuge," he said. "A team of students might have brought unwarranted attention."

"I see," Oran said. "Have you had a Semblance awakening event at all?"

"I've had several 'incidents,' but am not sure if they are related to a Semblance. My latest involved me moving to disengage from an opponent as I needed to vacate the area of a proximal detonation, but I ended up being going further than intended." Markus shook his head. "I left a white glow in my wake."

Oran had been chewing on a piece of caribou chop, but then slowly set his knife and fork down. "Was there a pressure-" he patted at his heart, "-here? Before you jumped?"

"There was," Markus replied, leaning forward with interest.

"I believe I may know what it is, but first," he raised his cup, "we must toast, and eat." Markus, Lilac, and Mauve followed suit. "To our new friendship, and, our hopeful resolution to our common problem."

* * *

"Phyrra Nikos," Emerald said, bringing a picture of her up on her Scroll.

"Ah, the 'Invincible Girl,'" Cinder said, examining her nails.

"She's smart," Mercury said as he laid on his back, reading a comic book, "but I wouldn't say 'invincible.'"

"Do tell."

"Her Semblance is polarity," Emerald continued, "but you'd never know just by watching."

Mercury sat up, discarding his comic. "After she made contact with my boots, she was able to move them around however she wanted, but she only made slight adjustments."

"Just enough to make it _look_ like she's untouchable. She doesn't broadcast her powers, so it puts her opponents at a disadvantage."

"Hmmm," Cinder hummed, "people assume she's fated for victory, when she's really taken fate into her own hands." She smiled. "Interesting. Add her to the list." She watched at Emerald's Scroll began to beep. "And what of the one Roman warned us?"

Emerald browsed through her device. "I made several inquiries, but they returned little. His name is Markus Frude, he isn't from Vale or any of the other kingdoms, and is currently away on a mission, but no one knows where."

"This is all you found?"

"Yes, ma'am. From what I've gathered, he tends to be on the reclusive side."

"We will have to do more research when he returns, but for the time being, add him to the list as well."

* * *

"I'm sorry, what?" Markus asked in disbelief.

"'Aural Grasp,' is what it is called," Oran said from his chair facing the fire. Lilac and Mauve had retired for the evening, leaving Oran and Markus to discuss Aura and Semblance. "It is a very rare gift, even more so than telekinesis. You have the ability to wield your own Aura, and use it directly."

"And you're sure that is what it is, based on the one example I gave?"

Oran leaned forward. "No."

Markus's Truthsense tingled. "By the Mother, you are."

"You are able to discern truth from fallacy without even a moment's hesitation. There are others who can as well, but for them it requires practice and concentration. For you, it comes as naturally as breathing."

"Ever since I've been able to remember, yes." Markus took a quick drink. "Does it have anything to do with the 'jumping' I seem to do when fighting?"

"I seem to recall that one with Aural Grasp can push against their own soul, sending them in the opposite direction. I believe you did this unintentionally in your confrontation with this Roman character." He leaned back. "Have you ever felt the pressure reach out of you, and strike someone, or something?"

"Once," Markus said, remembering the Aura awakening with Verde.

"That was your very Aura, reaching forth, and striking as a limb would," Oran took a draw from his cup. "Did it happen to be at a creature of Grimm?"

"It was at a person."

"Ah. Well, know that reaching with your Aura against a Grimm will cause them greater harm. Think of it like a holy weapon striking an undead."

"Noted."

"And, are you able to lay a hand upon a person, and see into their mind?"

Markus was momentarily shocked by the sheer amount of information Oran already knew about what he could do. "Yes. In Camaden, we call it the 'Soul Meld.'"

"An apt name," Oran said, "for they are correct. It comes second nature to you, doesn't it?" Markus nodded. "You physically impart a portion of your Aura into another, forcing the host's own Aura to intertwine with yours, and learning what it knows."

"I did not realize it was that involved of a process."

"You truly have the gift." Oran set aside his cup. "I hope, and fear, for you, then. It has been written in some of the oldest legends that a terrible destiny awaited those with Aural Grasp."

Markus brought his own cup to his lips, finishing off the bit of mead that remained. "Lucky for me, then. I'm not a fan of destiny. My future is my own to make."

"A brave way of thinking," Oran said, "but perhaps even that is in Lady Destiny's design."

"I don't care for the thought of life being a predetermined path."

"Ahhh, do not confuse destiny with fate. The road of Lady Destiny is littered with paths from which to choose."

"Do these paths all lead to the same end, though?"

"Perhaps," Oran said with a shrug. "Perhaps not. That is not for us to know. All we can do is walk upon it."

Markus sat motionless, then rested elbows on his knees and placed his chin on his hands, staring into the fire in contemplation. Quiet moments passed before Markus turned to, but did not make eye contact with, Oran. "I will… meditate on this."

"Good," Oran said, rising from his chair, Markus following. "You are a Camaden, and a believer in the balance of things, yes?"

"I am."

"A debt needs to be settled, and brought back into balance." Oran sighed. "I'm sorry for having to do this, but I am a leader of people, and must think of their protection. The presence of the White Fang has discouraged people from using the roads, and our town has suffered because of it. We have not been about to conduct trade with caravaneers for necessities only available through them."

Markus only stood in silence, beckoning Oran to continue. "We have fed you, housed you, and I intervened on your behalf when Mauve was set to cause you harm."

"I see the discrepancy," Markus said.

"Should you find yourself able to rid of the White Fang, I will consider us in balance once again. They were last seen heading northeast, toward the mountains."

Markus nodded. "I understand."

"You may rest here, though I'm sorry that I cannot offer a spare bed."

"Think nothing of it. The bed roll I was supplied is surprisingly comfortable."

Oran gave a smile. "When will you depart on the morrow?"

"First light."

"An early riser. This is good. The foothills are at least a three day journey from here," Oran gave Markus a once over, "but someone with your youthful status might make it in two-and-a-half." He spun away from Markus. "I, most likely, will not be awake before you depart," he stopped short of a door, "so, until we meet again, I wish you safe travels, and may the wind be at your back."

Markus gave an appreciative smile as Oran went through the door's threshold. He untucked his bed roll onto the stone floor, crawling inside and promptly falling asleep, dreaming of broken paths.


	9. Keep Your Friends Close

"Have fun!" Yang cheerfully said to the new arrivals, writing their names down in the registry. She watched the couple go hand-in-hand onto the crowding dance floor, then sighed contently. _This was a good idea, taking over for CFVY,_ she thought. _I think we needed the distraction._

The ballroom doors opened, causing Yang to look up. "Hey!" she called out as she recognized the pair. "You're just in time!"

Emerald and Mercury stopped at the registry book. "Wouldn't miss it for the world," Mercury said.

"Perfect!" Yang readied her pen. "This party's about to take off any time now. I can feel it!"

Emerald smiled as she tried to give the list a peek. "Is there a Markus Frude here?"

"No, he won't be here tonight," Yang answered. "He's been away on a mission since yesterday."

"Oh!" Mercury exclaimed, bumping Emerald on the shoulder with a hand. "So _that's_ why we can't find him."

"Have you been looking for him?"

"Oh yes," Emerald said. "We've been dying to know what it was like to go up against Roman Torchwick."

"Few people go up against him alone and live to tell the tale," Mercury added.

"And we've already heard intriguing things about him."

"You should talk to Ruby," Yang said. "She knows more about him than I do. Bit of a social recluse, that one."

"Him, or your sister?" Emerald asked.

Yang let out a light-hearted laugh. "Both!"

Mercury and Emerald gave each other a quick exchange of glances. "I'm gonna check out the punch bowl," Mercury said. "Want one?"

"Sure," Emerald replied. "I'll be by Ruby if I can find her."

"Have fun, you two!" Yang beckoned as the doors opened again.

Emerald only had to take five steps before spotting Ruby, standing like a newborn filly on unsteady legs, and looking about as uncomfortable as possible. She couldn't help but to laugh as she went closer. "Not accustom to heels or playing dressup, are you?"

Ruby's face lit up upon seeing Emerald. "Hey! You made it!" Her excitement nearly made her fall, as she flailed her arms to keep her balance. "I don't understand how you can fight in these."

"You get used to it after a while," Emerald said as she stood beside Ruby. "The payoff is worth it. The heel concentrates the force of a kick to a tiny, precise area."

"I'll stick to my boots," Ruby said, looking down at her feet. "You should have seen me when I first put them on. I had to learn to walk again."

Emerald smiled in amusement. "To each their own." They stood in silence, watching as attendees continued to arrive. "So," Emerald started, "I've been hearing about a student who went up against Roman Torchwick by themselves, and walked away to tell about it." She faced Ruby. "Know anything about that? All I've been getting is rumor and conjecture."

"Oh, you must be talking about Markus."

"Is that his name?" Emerald asked in feign excitement. "From what I've been hearing, he sounds like quite the fighter."

Ruby laughed quietly. "I don't think he'd appreciate it much if he heard you call him as a fighter."

"Oh?"

"I think he'd prefer 'peacekeeper,' or maybe 'dispenser of justice,' something along those lines." Ruby paused to think. "Come to think of it, _I_ don't really care to see him as a fighter, even if he has bested all of us."

"Really?" Emerald asked, now fully engrossed.

"Well, most of us. He dueled Phyrra once… for an entire class period."

Emerald stared at Ruby in disbelief. "You're kidding."

"Nope! Neither could land a hit on the other. We sat in the amphitheater, watching as their Auras refused to go down." Ruby reached for a nearby glass. "They eventually agreed to call it a draw, and I remember Markus saying, 'We could do this until the Earth Mother calls us home, but we don't have that kind of time today.'"

They laughed. "He seems formidable, nonetheless."

Ruby took a drink from her glass. "He's had advanced training by a personal mentor."

"I see," Emerald said. "So what do you know of him, besides his… peacekeeping skills? He seems like quite the character."

"He's very… reserved, and quiet most of the time. I like to think he speaks only out of necessity. He rarely lets things bother him, and he's quick to forgive, pointing out the error in someone's way, and then gives that person a chance to redeem themselves." Ruby scanned the room. "Has something to do with his belief in bringing things into balance. Take Cardin, for example." Emerald's gaze followed Ruby's, seeing the towering man engaged in a lighthearted but lively discussion with three others, two of them Faunus. "He used to look down upon and bully anyone who was a Faunus. Now he works with the Beacon extension of the Faunus Rights Awareness campaign."

Emerald was genuinely surprised. "What a truly noble soul."

"Yep!" Ruby happily said. "If there was a truer embodiment for the hope of the future, it's him. He sees the world for what it could be, I think."

Emerald's genuine shock passed. "If only everyone thought as he did."

"They could. 'They just need to see,' as he would say."

A small throat laugh came out of Emerald. "I have a feeling some of our enemies are too far gone to see that kind of… utopian existence."

"Nope."

A bewildered Emerald face Ruby again. "No?"

Ruby shook her head. "Nope. 'No soul is beyond redeeming,' as he would also say."

Emerald shivered as a wave of confusion washed over her. She took a rapid, frantic breath, having to lean against a nearby chair. "It's too bad he's not here. I would very much like to meet him."

"Yeah," Ruby disappointingly said. "What a bummer time to be called away on a mission."

 _Don't think,_ Emerald thought. _Obey._ "What could have been so important to be called away from the Vytal Festival?"

"He briefly talked to us about it before leaving. Something to do with tracking down the crew from a hijacked Bullhead."

"Oh, so he's down south." Emerald went wide-eyed, taking a quiet gasp.

"Yeah," Ruby said with mild suspicion. "How did… you know?"

"I-I saw a CCT news broadcast about the thefts, and put two and two together," Emerald said with a small laugh.

Ruby laughed with her. "Well, your super deducing skills are right."

Emerald relaxed, letting out an inaudible sigh. "We keep talking about just him. What about his team?"

"Oh, well… he doesn't have one." Ruby took another drink. "Markus is down there, operating all by his lonesome."

Emerald hummed. "It takes a strong soul to go it alone."

"That's our Markus, though," Ruby said, then finishing her drink. "I'm gonna go get a refill. Want one?"

Emerald declined, and watched as Ruby crossed the dance floor. Mercury stealthily approached beside her. "How was the chat?" he asked. "Are you two bonded sisters now?"

She gave him daggers for eyes before pointing to an unoccupied balcony. "Ten minutes. There."

Ten minutes later, Emerald observed the commotion below her. "It appears all the dancers have parters."

"How long do I have?" a voice radioed in.

"We should probably be home by midnight, just to be safe," Mercury said.

"I'll keep my eye on the clock." Cinder's transmission ceased with a click.

Emerald sighed, letting her smile drop. "Mercury, I almost blew it."

"What?" he asked. "Your dance steps?"

"Our cover."

Mercury sat up from the railing on which he was leaning, squaring up to Emerald. "You did what? How?"

"I was asking Ruby about Markus and his whereabouts, and she said he was going after the Bullheads the White Fang stole, and I mentioned in passing that puts him down south, and she… she gave me the suspicious eye."

"Do we need to -"

"No," she interrupted. "I managed to recover, blaming what I heard on the CCT news, and she bought it."

Mercury sighed heavily. "Are you and Roman trying to compete for who can screw things up the most? You're better than that. How could you be so careless?"

Emerald fought for words, taking in a flustered breath. "At least I recovered enough to not arouse a connection."

Mercury shrugged. "You've got him there."

"Though, I'd appreciate it if this stayed between us."

"I dunno," he said, leaning back. "It might be funny to see what Cinder would do to you if she learned about it." Mercury saw Emerald's face flash worry. "Your secret is safe with me… for now."

"Don't get any funny ideas. But we need to tell our White Fang liaison about a possible intruder."

"It'll take at least a day for a message to get down there. It isn't the best place for Scrolls to work."

Distracted by their conversation, the two missed Ruby step outside, seeing a shadow move from rooftop to rooftop, and choosing to investigate.

* * *

"Day three," Markus said, watching the dying embers in the fireplace. "I'm about to depart my temporary housing for the nearby mountain range." He brought up a map, squinting in the sudden bright light. "Oran has told me that the White Fang was headed in that direction, and they're my best lead thus far. Though, it begs the question of why go there."

"The abandoned mine shafts," Lilac's sudden voice echoed in the serenity of the hall. Markus closed his Scroll, seeing Lilac's face illuminated by candles. "The foothills were once a source of Dust, but that was years ago."

"How large of an operation was it?"

"Relatively small, when compared to the Schnee Dust Company, but big enough to send a few people into early retirement."

"I see," Markus said. "Well then, for what should I be on the lookout?"

"Stereotypical mining faire," she said. "Holes in the side of a hill, supported by wooden beams."

"Okay," he said, taking his packed bag and slinging it over his back.

"Leaving already?" Lilac asked. "The mountains will always be there."

"I've had this… feeling all morning," Markus said, adjusting the straps, "that time is no longer on my side. Your father said the foothills are three days away." He grinned. "I'm hoping to get there in two."

"Aggressive," Lilac quietly mentioned, "but not an unheard of feat."

"Lilac," Markus said with a bow, "thank you for your hospitality."

"Goodbye Markus," she said, watching him walk to the door. "May Lady Destiny guide your path."

Markus stopped as his hand made contact with the handle, before shaking off his thought, and stepped into the cold predawn air.

* * *

 _To: Southern Field Commander_

 _Subject: Intrusion_

 _We have reason to believe an enemy operative, a student from Beacon Academy, is active in your area. Although we believe this student is operating alone, sourced information on this particular individual has led us to consider and label him as a major mission threat._

 _Because of your mission critical asset acquisition, I am recalling you to our preliminary staging area in the northern regions. You have been ordered to evacuate immediately, and take only what is necessary. Be forewarned, when you receive this message, there is a strong possibility the operative is nearing your location. Time is working against you._

 _However, should the opportunity present itself, and you spot this threat, you may engage, but do so at your own discretion. This one is_ _not_ _to be underestimated. Return with proof of your victory, and you will be rewarded._

 _Leave the prisoners. They've served their purpose._

 _-A_

* * *

"Day five. I have reached the foothills, or rather the first line of them." Markus surveyed the landscape. "The path I was taking began to curve too far to the north, and I decided to abandon the path altogether. This first line of foothills looks to only go up a few hundred feet, and the ones behind them raise well beyond a thousand. If I wanted to put a base of operations anywhere, it'd be here."

Markus started to put his Scroll away when it began to beep frantically. He reopened it and pressed the alerting icon, bringing up a local map. His eyes widened when he saw the two Vale Armed Forces logos at a location further ahead. He started to run, switching back to his recorder. "I just picked up two V.A.F. identification frequencies! I'm double-timing to investigate!"

Twenty minutes into his run, his Scroll beeped yet again. He slowed his pace to see Castillo was attempting to make contact. _Why? She knows she'll be giving away my position._

He opened the device. "Markus! Holy… you're a hard man to find!"

"Castillo!" Markus typed in the location of the ID tags. "Meet me at these coordinates!"

"No can do, Markus," she replied as a fit of static came through. "Somethin' happened in Vale yesterday. I have orders to abort, extract, and bring you home."

"But I think I found the missing troopers!"

Silence initially responded, indicating Castillo was thinking. "Coordinates received. I'll relay them to the southern V.A.F. extension so they can investigate."

"Not good enough, Castillo. You can either meet me there or go back to Beacon and report that I'm missing."

"If I go back to Beacon," she said, full of scorn, "I'm reporting you a AWOL."

"I'm not in the military, Castillo. You can't." Markus shut his Scroll and continued his run to the designated location, discovering it no more than ten minutes later. A large area of dirt had been moved and shaped into a flattened square, painted white lines denoting it as a landing zone. The immediate area was riddled with the showings of recent human activity; more discarded heaters, food wrappers, and the foul stench emanating from a nearby latrine. To the left of the latrine was a mine opening, old wooden supports still holding, but weathered by the elements.

Markus withdrew his Scroll and began taking pictures when a groan came from the entrance. He jumped to cover at the mine's side as another pained cry came out. "Anyone there?" a voice called out.

"State your designation!" Markus called back.

"V… A… F… eight-two-nine-seven-seven dash four-alpha."

Markus checked his mission notes to confirm. "What's your clearance?"

The mine echoed, "Olly oxen free!"

Markus stood, recognizing the all-clear phrase. He rooted around his pack for a flashlight, then entered the mine. "Keep talking to me, soldier. Where are you?"

"Just…" a pause came as Markus heard a breath being drawn, "around the corner. I can… see your light."

Markus rounded a sharp corner and shined the light to see the two troopers, one still held up by shackles, the other seated on the ground, leaning on the rock wall. Their uniforms were caked in dirt, dried blood spotted their faces, and when the freed one looked up, his eyes were glazed.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," he said.

Markus briskly walked over to the two, throwing his pack close by. "First aid kit is in the main compartment. Extraction is on its way." He turned his attention to freeing the shackled trooper. "What's your name?"

"Finn," the conscious one said. "That one, we call him Mac. Got any water?"

"Same compartment, steel canteen," Markus said, lowering the now loose Mac to the ground. "What happened here?"

Markus reached over for his pack, seeing Finn taking an extended draw from his water bottle. "White Fang," he said. "Got themselves a Bullhead, faked a distress call, took us by surprise." He coughed. "Brought us here, interrogated us, wanted to know any other lightly defended southern bases."

"I don't suppose they, by chance, said why, did they?" Markus asked as he assessed Mac. Markus put a hand by Mac's mouth, feeling a breath move past it.

"Never did, no," Finn replied, "but they sure left in a hurry yesterday. Packed up all their stuff… well, most of their stuff." He took another pull from the canteen. "Must have got new orders."

"Or someone tipped them off, saying I was here," Markus said. "They must not have wanted me to make the connection between them and the stolen Bullheads."

"Could be, yeah." Finn managed to stand. "Mac passed out about an hour ago. When's pickup?"

"Soon," Markus assured, "within the next hour. My ride was just inside Scroll range when she contacted me."

"Wait, Scroll range?" Finn squinted at Markus. "You're not with V.A.F.?"

"I'm with Beacon Academy."

"Damn," Finn said in awe. "Didn't realize we warranted a rescue from a Huntsman."

"Technically, this wasn't a rescue mission, but it turned into one."

Finn poured a bit of water onto the tips of his fingers, and ran them over Mac's cracked lips. Mac responded by curling them inward. "That's a good sign, at least."

"Feel well enough to watch him for a second? I'm going to check the status of our ride."

"Yeah," Finn said, nodding. "Yeah. It's amazing how much better a bit of water can make you feel."

Markus put a reassuring hand on Finn's shoulder as he stood, heading for the entrance. "Castillo," he said into his Scroll as he stepped into the late morning air.

"You won me over," she replied, "and I've got a southern extension Bullhead following me."

"I knew you'd come to your senses. What's your ETA?"

"Forty-five minutes, give or take. We're charging hard to your location."

Forty-one minutes later, Markus heard the familiar sounds of a Bullhead in flight. He went out of the mine, flare pistol in hand, and fired it into the air. He watched the two craft bank toward the new column of smoke, and walked back inside.

"Pickup is imminent!" he shouted down the corridor. "Can he walk?"

"A little," Finn said back. "We're on our way out."

Markus didn't hesitate to go back to Finn and Mac, seeing Finn under Mac's shoulder, more carrying than helping walk. Markus grabbed his supply pack, then assisted Finn on the opposite side. They emerged from the mine to see one of the Bullheads on the improvised landing zone, Vale soldiers exiting it.

"What is this place?" one asked.

"Abandoned White Fang operations base," Markus replied. "These two need medical attention."

"Alright," the one who spoke before said as he moved to take Markus's place. "We'll head back to base and deliver these two, but this place warrants investigating." He pointed to the sky. "Your ride will pick you up as soon as we're airborne."

"You're a damn hero, Markus!" Finn shouted as they were boarding their Bullhead.

Markus gave a waved hand response. "I'm just doing this for a grade," he muttered under his breath. The Bullhead powered up as soon as its crew was aboard, being replaced by Castillo's own craft. He climbed up to board, banging on the bulkhead separating the cockpit and main compartment, when he felt the ship lunge, forcing him to grab a hanging strap to brace himself.

He donned a headset. "By the Mother, Castillo!"

"Hey!" she angrily shouted back. "If I get chewed out because we're late, that's solely on you!"

"That's fine. I'm sure they'll understand after I tell them about the two lives we saved." The Bullhead's turbine's turned. "So why the urgent recall?"

"Vale was attacked yesterday."

Markus stood stunned, not noticing the loss of feeling in his hanging arm. "Attacked?"

"Yeah. You know the old subway system that connected the city with Mountain Glenn?"

"I know of it, yes."

"The White Fang apparently got the tracks cleared, loaded bombs on a train, and blew holes above them as they charged into Vale, letting in all manner of Grimm. The train eventually crashed through an old station."

Markus let go of the handle, and slid down a panel to sit. "Do we have an update on the containment situation?"

"The Grimm are dead and the breach is contained, thanks to the timely arrival of Atlasian forces, and that Glynda witch."

"That's Glynda _Good_ witch, Castillo." Markus's head leaned back. _I'm never going to hear the end of it from Ironwood, about how his soulless soldiers saved the day._

"Anyway, your man Ozpin has been removed as chief of security for the Vytal Festival by the Vale Council. I'll give you two guesses as to who his successor is."

Markus closed his eyes. "Ironwood?"

"Yep. He's the one that ordered your immediate return, claiming it was in the interest of all attendee's safety."

 _I should have assumed as much,_ Markus thought with scorn. _Professor Ozpin would have never jeopardized my position with such a careless recall, and Ironwood has never had faith in Beacon students being able to hold their own._ "Were there any casualties?"

"Other than a few broken bones from the breach, no."

"Thank the Mother."

The next hour passed in relative silence, occasionally interrupted with idle chatter, and Markus being told that Finn and Mac would make a full recovery. A sense of relief overcame Markus. _It seems I'll have many thing for which to thank the Mother tonight._

A faint beeping came from the cockpit, of which Markus initially paid no mind. As the monotone alert continued unabated, he sat up. "Is everything well up there, Castillo?"

"Uhm," she stammered out, "that depends on the answer to the following: What are the flight designations of the Bullheads that went missing?"

Markus reviewed his mission notes. "They were VAF zero-two-five-nine, and VAF zero-three-oh-six."

"Welp, everything's not fine. Because guess who just showed up on radar? You'd better get up here."

Markus stood, making his way through the cockpit threshold. "Which one is it?" he asked as he sat in the copilot's seat.

"Both of 'em," Castillo said, pointing to the radar display. Two blips that showed friendly identification were closing quickly. "They're still a ways out, but they're also moving at double our speed."

"How soon can we expect an intercept?"

Castillo ran the numbers through her mind. "Twelve minutes."

Markus gazed at the two closing dots on the screen. "Do we know for a fact they're coming for us?"

"It's safe to assume they are," Castillo said with a touch of worry. "I sped up when they first entered range, and they matched it."

"Yaw twenty degrees to port," Markus said.

"Excuse me?"

He picked his head up from the display. "Let's see if they really are, or if they'll just go about their merry way."

"Whatever floats your boat, man." Castillo pressed down on a pedal, shifting the nose left. Markus watched as the horizon slid to the east, before the radar gave off another series of alarms. "Yep, they are. Bogeys have janked back for an intercept, time now… eight minutes."

"Increase speed?"

"What's the point? They'll just speed up, too, but they're probably having a rough ride. Bullheads aren't designed to go that fast."

Markus pointed to the two represented craft. "How are they managing it?"

"I dunno," Castillo said, throwing her hands up. "Maybe they have nothing left to lose since you found them out."

"Great," Markus said, sitting back. "What do we do?"

"They've most likely locked onto our ID, so hitting the deck is out."

"Any other friendlies in the area?"

"Nada."

"What about scrambling -"

"They won't get here for at least fifteen minutes."

"Can you buy any time?"

Castillo looked over her instrumentation displays, then pushed the stick forward along with the throttle control. A devious grin crept onto her lips. "Let's see how bad they want it." As they descended, she punched buttons on a frequency display. "Southern VTOL control, this is Shocker. Come back?"

"Solid copy, Shocker," a male voice said back into their headsets.

"We've got two bogeys on radar, VAF zero-two-five-niner and zero-three-oh-six, friendly craft, presumed jacked. They are on an intercept course with VAF oh-oh-seven-four. Requesting assistance."

"Roger. Standby seven-four." Tense silence passed as both Markus and Castillo anxiously awaited a response. "Emergency scramble call has already been ordered. Birds are away and en route. ETA is nine minutes."

"Solid copy," Castillo acknowledged. She switched channels on the radio. "At least someone knows what they're doing."

"Do you?" Markus asked, motioning to the radio.

Castillo pulled back on the stick, leveling out. "I'm tryin' to find what frequency they're using." Her eyes were fixated on the ground, keeping a visual tab on their altitude while her ears intently listened to the passing bandwidths. Her head picked up as one channel passed then returned.

All Castill did was raise an eyebrow. "What is it?" Markus inquired.

She switched back to the original station. "Apparently there's a White Fang bounty on our heads. They're coming to collect."

"Fantastic."

"Markus, I know this isn't your forte," she hit a series of buttons on the center command console, "but I really need you to take the tail gunner seat." As Markus stood, she continued. "It's loaded with flak rounds, so you won't have to lead your target as much."

"Castillo, just because I don't use them, doesn't mean I don't know how."

"Just making sure."

Markus gave her a wink before walking to the back of the craft. A small section had opened between the tail fins, a fixed gun protruded into the open air, and a fixed seat attached to the gun's main base sat unoccupied. "The gun should have power," he heard in his headset. "You just need to lock 'n load."

Markus sighed. "I don't understand," he began to mutter under his breath as he opened the ammunition boxes, "why we all can't get along," he strung a line of munitions into the underside breach of the turret, "just because some people look different." Markus pounded the loaded breaches shut. "But no, humans have to subjugate other not like them," he pulled the center action back and released, loading the gun, "because reasons."

"Contact in three minutes! They're approaching from five o'clock high!"

"Copy, Captain." Markus squinted out the opening, seeing two faint dots. "I have visual contact."

"Solid copy. They'll be in -"

"They'll be what?"

"They've got a lock! They're packing missiles!" The Bullhead jolted. "Incoming! Deploying countermeasures!"

Tufts of bright lights shot from the wingtips of the tail fins, falling to the ground. Markus saw the smoke of the missile approach, then veer and follow the lights. It detonated upon making contact.

"Nice one, Castillo!"

"Here comes another! It's maintaining its lock!"

"Countermeasures?"

"Recharging!"

 _Alright,_ Markus thought as he spied the missile in the gun's sights. _Lead the target, and…_ He pressed down on the trigger buttons, sending the radar-enabled rounds toward the projectile. Three of them bounced off close enough signatures to detonate, their shrapnel shredding the missile into pieces.

"Woooo!" Markus cheered as he saw the missile fall.

"Good shooting back there!"

Markus looked back to the pursuing craft, seeing them gaining ground. "Castillo, they're closing!"

"I see that. Fire intermittently and around them. Maybe it'll cause them to break off."

Markus thumb pressed down on the trigger again, letting three rounds go, moving, firing five, moving again, then two. He continued to fire sporadically before one flak round detonated in close proximity to one of the pursuing Bullheads, causing it to bank.

"Port side Bullhead is breaking!"

"I see that. Well done, Markus!"

As the two relished in their momentary victory, the main cannon on the undamaged Bullhead spun up. "You know, maybe I should -" Markus stopped to see the spinning barrels flashing. "Down!" he yelled. He ducked, just as metallic shards exploded around him. The rounds from the cannon blast ripped through the tail gun, moving to the starboard and up into the tail fin.

The exploding stopped, and Markus sat back up, check for holes on his person. When he made sure he was still whole, he put a hand to his ear. "Castillo, are you still active?"

"Yeah! Copilot's chair is torn to pieces. Fire back!"

Markus resumed on the controls, but when he went to move, only a grinding of metal resulted. He pushed the triggers to no result. "Tail gun is trash!"

"Alright, we'll do this the hard way," he heard Castillo mutter. "Strap in, we're gonna go inverted!"

"Wait," Markus said as he tightened down his belt, "are Bullheads designed to go inverted?"

"Nope, but I just got a crazy idea! Squeeze your legs!"

Markus felt the craft accelerate, then sharply ascend. "Oh, that's the ground!" he shouted in panic as he tensed every single muscle in his lower half. He heard the turbine inclination rotors begin to work, before the engines shut off completely. "Castillo! What are you doing!?"

"Drawing a cursive 'L' in the sky!" The craft tipped over, Markus's vision now encompassing the early afternoon sky. The engines fired, rotated, and engaged. The Bullhead pulled up, and Markus's vision went gray as the blood pulled away from his head. The ship leveled and his vision returned, as he heard the spinup of the Bullhead's main cannon and felt the vibration as it fired.

A muffled explosion came from in front of them. "Splash one!"

Markus watched the enemy Bullhead came into view as they flew over it, spiraling down to the ground, people jumping from the craft. "I've got a count of three chutes," he said to Castillo.

Two new passing Bullheads flew into Markus's view. "Yeah, they see them."

"VAF oh-oh-seven-four," a new voice radioed in, "this is the southern extension emergency scramble team. We've got tabs on the retreating Bullhead, and you are to proceed with your mission. Helluva stick you got there. Next time you're down this way, drinks are on us!"

"Imma hold you to that," Castillo said back. "Shocker, out." The turbines powered once again, propelling them toward Vale.

Markus roused to his feet, observing the damage. Where there was a cannon now sat two tubes, one cleanly broken, in line with an opening ripped though the main bulkhead. "Are we going to be able to make it back?"

"Oh yeah, not a problem," Castillo said in her normal tone.

Markus sat in the middle of the Bullhead, folding his legs and bowed his head. _Thank you, Earth Mother, for seeing me through this day. This is going to be quite the tale._


	10. A Brief Debrief

Markus sat reclined on the side panel of his Bullhead, leaning against the centrifugal force as the craft banked for the umpteenth time. A slew of confusion and arguing ensued when the Bullhead carrying Castillo and himself reentered Vale airspace, forcing them into a holding pattern over the school. Air traffic controllers from the local Vale Reserves argued with controllers aboard the Atlasian command ship over who had jurisdiction to give them clearance to land. Twenty minutes into their hold, they were still fighting.

Markus had long since removed his headset, willingly choosing to listen to the roar of the Bullhead's powerful turbines over the squabbling of the air traffic controllers. They had initially been given permission to land by the Vale tower, but the Atlasian vessel quickly rescinded it, and Castillo didn't want to "find out first hand just how big the guns are on that monstrosity," and quickly complied.

After the craft leveled out, Markus roused to his feet and moved to the cockpit. "Any new developments?" he asked.

"Nope," Castillo boredly answered. "The Atlasian controllers are still claiming to have air authority based on their Vytal Festival security force status."

"And Vale's?"

"Still saying since the initiated contact, it's their call."

"What does precedent say about jurisdiction between towers?"

"Within the same kingdom? Whoever makes first contact. When you have another kingdom's army in yours, playing soldier?" She threw her arms up in defeat. "Couldn't tell ya." Castillo let out a dejected sigh. "If everyone could let go of their egos for thirty seconds, we would have landed by now."

"Have you tried requesting priority clearance?"

"Oh yeah, several times. I even went so far as to say I was carrying wounded. Still got nothin'."

Markus looked out the windshield and down to the ground. "What is the status of the landing zones?"

"Last time we passed 'em, they were clear. They've been clear since…" she trailed off. Markus raised his chin in hope they would soon share the same thought. "Frak it," she grumbled, hitting an assortment of controls. "I'm just gonna land."

Markus nodded. "My sentiment, exactly, though I am willing to bet we will hear it from Ironwood. I will do my best to keep the heat off of you."

"At this point, I really don't care." The Bullhead banked sharply. "I'm tired, bored of flyin' circles, and just wanna go home. And if you start getting it from the General," the craft leveled, "you give it right back. Tell him he should have had this figured out by now."

The turbines powered down as the metallic landing pads, reaching out over the cliffs, came into view, their lights rhythmically flashing. Markus heard the grinding of the landing gear extending as they made their final approach. The engines gave one last surge of power before the rear landing legs made contact, followed quickly by the bow. The craft settled with a thud, its engines winding down.

"Thank you for flying Castillo airways," Castillo said as she unbuckled herself from her seat. "Please use caution as you exit the vehicle, as there may be loose bits of shrapnel strewn about the cabin."

"'May be?' I am going to find shards of metal in this dogi for at least a couple of months."

Castillo stood. "Eh, go stand under of the giant electromagnets at the docks."" She stepped out of the cockpit, pushing a hatch release as she moved. "That'll have it cleaned out in an instant."

"I will bear that in mind as a solution." Markus threw his pack over a shoulder as the hydraulic lifts raised the Bullhead's main hatch. The warm air of Vale rushed in as Markus stepped down onto the landing pad. He slowly walked to the rear of the craft to examine the exterior damage, seeing the meandering line the cannon rounds had made.

"Well, there's our problem," Castillo said as she round the tail fin.

"By the Mother," Markus said, stunned. "It looks worse from out here."

"Yep, Bullhead cannons really rip stuff up." Castillo ran two fingers along the jagged opening. "Though, from the look of it, I'd say they were trying to force us down."

"How have you deduced that conclusion?"

"Well, for one, we're still here. At any point, they could have just shot us down. They took out or tail gun, but then stopped." Castillo brought a hand to her chin. "And those missiles, were they actually going to hit us?"

"Finn did say that they were asked if they knew of any other lightly defended stations." Markus widened his eyes in realization. "Perhaps they were merely after the Bullhead."

"Or we were worth more alive."

Markus grinned. "I doubt, even if they managed to somehow get us to ground, it would not have boded well for them."

Castillo joined him in his grin. "You're not wrong." She extended her forearm, which Markus bumped with his own. "Victory or Kolvngar."

Markus shrugged a shoulder, readjusting his bag. "I will find you a more worthy mission next time."

She gave a mocking salute. "You do that. Until then, take it easy."

Markus returned the gesture, then turned toward the school. Upon first examination, it was oddly deserted, with only a few random students running between buildings. _Huh,_ he began to ponder. _I wonder if there has been a mandatory -_

His thought cut itself off when a localized burning sensation overcame where his Truthsense normally manifested. Markus's head snapped to full alert, and he mentally prepared for an attacker, but as he spun a circle while walking, none such a person arrived. _Strange, the only other time I felt that was when -_ He felt another wave of burning come over him, then fade into a more familiar tingle, then disappear altogether.

Markus shook his head, shaking off the feeling. _By the Mother, what was that?_

The question lingered in his mind as he entered the staff wing elevator and throughout the ride to his floor. When the doors parted, he found an unusually calm Professor Oobleck standing in front of him. "Ah, Mister Frude! Good to see you again."

"Professor Oobleck. It is good to see you as well."

"I understand that you have been in southern Vale. How was your mission?"

"Eventful," Markus replied, "but a success, nonetheless."

"Good! Good." Oobleck took a step toward the elevator car as Markus stepped out. "I'm on my way down to a correspondence meeting. I will be broadcasting the Vytal Tournament with Professor Port this year."

"I look forward to your commentary."

"Yes, I'm looking forward to it as well. But you look like you need rest. Have a wonderful evening." Oobleck sped passed Markus into the car, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for the doors to close.

Markus turned back toward the open hall, relieved that not much had changed within Beacon, despite the sudden show of Atlasian power. He waved his Scroll in front of his room's door handle, hearing the audible click that granted him access. Immediately upon entering, he breathed deeply, taking comfort in the scent of familiar surroundings.

He tossed his pack near his reading chair and began to loosen his dogi, fully intending to shower and scrub the five day's worth of dirt and grime from himself, when his Scroll sounded off with an alert. Markus groaned loudly, annoyed by its sudden intrusion.

" _Please come to my office for debriefing. Be forewarned, General Ironwood is also here."_

 _I knew it,_ Markus thought. He rubbed his tired eyes and exited his room with haste, leaving his Scroll on his desk, and not caring to notice his door had not shut completely.

* * *

"So, in conclusion," General Ironwood rattled off from a report, "the Atlasian Knight has been observed to have a peak performance efficiency when deployed in teams of four, however, they maintain good to excellent performance in pairs. Given the size of the Vytal Festival grounds, the arena, and Vale itself, I move that the pair deployment be utilized."

Professor Ozpin initially said nothing. He sipped at his mug as he read various articles regarding the breach of Grimm. "Yes, that sounds best."

Ironwood sighed. "Oz, you've said that to the last five security details I've thrown at you."

"I am aware of what I say, James." A bell chime from the elevator caused Ozpin to close his Scroll. "I am simply deferring to your military expertise."

General Ironwood's brow furrowed. "I'm not sure how to take that, Oz."

"I meant no disrespect, of course." Ozpin pressed a button on his desk, allowing the elevator occupant into his office. He watched as a road-weary Markus stepped through the doors, with purpose in his step. "Welcome back, Markus."

"Ah, Mister Frude," Ironwood said. "How was your -"

"By what right grants your air controllers domain over Vale's skies?" Markus loudly interrupted. "I sat in a holding pattern while your people could not keep their egos in check because a Vale controller had already granted us permission to land."

Ironwood stood stunned by Markus's sudden outburst, while Ozpin sat with his mouth agape. "The right," Ironwood began, "was granted by the Vale Council, for the Atlasian Army to act as an additional security force for the duration of the Vytal Festival. The traffic controllers were simply following orders."

"Then why did it take us twenty minutes to land?" Markus asked as he stopped short of Ozpin's desk. "Our clearance kept getting rescinded by your command ship."

"They most likely wanted to confirm your flight."

"They they should have _asked_ the Vale tower, not fight and bicker with them." Markus folded his arms. "You are a General. You are to have this figured out before taking the role of occupation force."

"Markus," Ozpin said, standing. "That's enough." Ozpin saw Markus take a breath. "Events, as of late, have left us all heated, but the last person we need flying off the rails is you."

"Yes," Ironwood said. "You may be tired, but it doesn't give you the excuse to disrespect the headmaster of another school."

"Nor does it give the additional security force, who was asked to remain, the right to barge in on set procedure," Ozpin added. "The Vytal Festival is a celebration of unity, not superiority." Professor Ozpin sat. "I suggest you remind your people of this upon your return."

"And let them know that they are guests here," Markus continued, "and can be easily dismissed, should the need be."

Ironwood looked over Markus and Ozpin, then letting a defeated expression come over him. "I will let them know when I am back aboard." He checked his watch. "It's getting late. I need to get back to my ship and question Torchwick one more time before the day is out."

"You managed to capture Roman Torchwick?" Markus asked with more energy in his voice. "Huh… I took him to be a bit more cautious than that."

"What? You think he intentionally let himself be captured?"

Markus tapped his chin. "Now that you mention it…"

"You're delirious," Ironwood said as he moved to leave. "I'll return tomorrow to finish our briefing."

The elevator doors closed, taking Ironwood with it. "I don't think I've ever seen you so upset, Markus," Ozpin said as he reached for an empty mug.

"There is a first time for everything," Markus replied as he held out a refusing hand. "But even my patience has limits."

"It appears so." Ozpin gestured to a chair. "How went your mission?"

"It went well," Markus said, sitting. "Both Bullheads were found, and the missing soldiers are alive and recovering."

"That's the best news I have heard in the last day."

"So I can imagine, but I was unable to ascertain the White Fang's true motives of to why they were taken."

Professor Ozpin leaned forward. "So it was the White Fang behind the thefts. What became of the stolen craft?"

"One was shot down, the other was forced down by the local V.A.F. detachment."

"Well," Ozpin said, giving an indifferent shrug, "at least we know they no longer have them." He gave Markus a more thorough inspection, seeing uncharacteristic concern in his eyes. "You seem… distant. What's on your mind?"

"Two things," Markus said with a drawn out exhale. "One, when I arrived back on Beacon grounds, a burning sensation overcame where my Truthsense normally is."

"A burning?" Ozpin said, sitting alert. "They only other time you mentioned a burning was during your first mission."

"Yes. I fear there may be conspirators among us."

Ozpin nodded slowly. "With the sudden inflow of students and people for the Vytal Festival, it will be difficult to keep track of any suspicious behavior."

"Then perhaps it is in everyone's best interest to cancel the Festival, or at least the tournament."

"I've already suggested that, but the Council remains steadfast in seeing it through, putting their full faith in General Ironwood and the Atlasian Army. They have, however, delayed the start of the tournament by a week."

"That only gives them more time to iron out final preparations, whatever those might be."

"Markus, whatever argument you can think, I have already brought before the Council." Ozpin reached for his filled mug. "The Council is on alert, and people are scared. My hands are bound in this matter."

Markus let out a grumbled sigh. "Fear will be the death of us all."

"Perhaps," Ozpin said before taking a drink. "This is why we must remain symbols against fear."

"It is not us about which I am worried." Markus leaned forward. "I feel as your relegation to merely host for the Festival is rash, thoughtless, and a decision under duress." His elbows rested upon Ozpin's desk. "But what if that was the intent of the grand design?"

"If that were the case," Ozpin started, unmoved, "I would first commend, whoever is the master architect, for their keen insight into human psychology, before taking said person into custody."

Without looking up, Markus muttered, "Who said it was a person?"

Professor Ozpin set his mug aside. "Now you're starting to concern me, Markus."

"I know. I can feel it." Markus slowly stood. "It has been several days since I have been able to properly meditate. My mind is… flustered."

"I should have let you rest before calling you here, but Ironwood demanded it." Ozpin rose to his feet. "But before you depart, what was the other point on your mind?"

"I may have discovered my Semblance, thanks to a fellow kinsman in the village of Kansa."

The elder Huntsman tilted his head to confusion. "'Fellow kinsman?'"

"He knew of Camaden, knew of Thirmir, the Hall, and nearly recited _The Knight Paladin_." Markus placed his hands on the desk, and leaned onto them. "You know that story did not exist here until I brought it."

"What brought him to Vale?"

"I did not ask, nor is it my place to know." Markus stood erect again. "However, he had knowledge of Truthsense, and offered insight into the trails I sometimes leave behind myself while in combat."

Ozpin waited for Markus to continue. "Did he add anything else?"

"Only that a terrible destiny awaited those with the gift of 'Aural Grasp.'"

"Well, lucky for you, then."

"It would be," Markus said, "if I wasn't beginning to doubt my disbelief." He hung his head. "I did the dangerous thing of thinking during my trip. There are so many things… that have had to go right to lead me to here. I…" His words caught in his throat. "I can no longer attribute some of them to simple luck anymore."

Professor Ozpin put a hand on Markus's shoulder. "Go rest. You need it. There is another item we need to discuss, but it can wait. I'll send it to your Scroll."

* * *

The elevator doors opened, letting Ruby into the hall. "What do you think a tournament commentary with those two would sound like?"

"It will either be a long, drawn out story," Weiss said, stepping from the elevator car, "or something rattled off that needs subtitles to even understand."

Yang exited the car, looking toward the empty hall. "Are you sure he's back? This place looks deserted."

"Yeah!" Ruby excitedly said. "I overheard someone at dinner say they saw him!"

"Okay," Yang said defensively. "As long as you're sure."

"Markus has a fairly unique demeanor," Blake chimed in. "I feel as if he'd be easy to spot, even at a distance."

"Hey, girls," Weiss called out, pointing to the ajar door, "Markus's room is open."

The team quickly joined Weiss. "Well," Yang said, pushing Ruby forward, "go in. You're the one that wanted to see him."

Ruby straightened her ruffled outfit. "Wouldn't that be barging in?"

"Maybe he opened the door for us." Yang held out her Scroll. "I did explicitly say in the message I sent that, 'We're coming to see you.'"

"Though I find it odd he didn't reply," Weiss said.

Ruby slowly started to move the door, knocking on it several times. "Markus?" she called out into the living area.

Three other heads peaked through the crack. "Hey!" Yang yelled. "Are you dead? Call out if you're dead!"

Weiss rolled her eyes. "He's obviously not here," she said as she pushed the door open fully. "But it looks as if he's been here."

"Yeah," Blake said as they entered, pointing to Markus's pack on his floor. "There's his bag."

"Maybe he's napping," Ruby suggested.

"Markus never struck me as they napping type," Weiss said. "He always seemed like he was all or nothing." She reached for an object on his desk. "No wonder he didn't reply. I found his Scroll."

Yang looked over to see Blake scanning the nearby bookshelf. "Looking for anything in particular?"

"Just seeing all what he had." Blake's attention went back to the rows of books. "He has a few of the classics, a lot of nonfiction, looks like history books, and…" An unusual binding caught her eye, forcing her to turn her head. " _The Knight Paladin of Camaden,_ " she read aloud. "Anyone heard of that before?"

Her remaining teammates shook their heads. "We'll have to borrow it, sometime."

Blake moved to take the novel from its place when a smaller, tattered book slid out when the other was moved. Curiosity of the new leather-bound book made her reach of it instead. Withdrawing it from its place revealed an earthen brown colored binding, with an unfamiliar script embossed on the cover. "I think I found something."

"This isn't an investigation," Yang said.

"I know, but," she brought the book to the group, "does anyone recognize the language?"

Weiss squinted at the cover. "I can't tell what it says, but that looks like Old Atlasian. It could also be the native tongue of Camaden."

"Only one way to find out," Ruby said. "Let's see what it says."


	11. Markus's Journal, Part I

17/01/82 - Year of the Opal

Fourteen years in Thirmir, and this is the first time I've thought putting pen to paper for sake of a journal. But, some of the greatest men and women in our history kept journals of their exploits, and I've even had the esteemed opportunity to view them.

Not that I aspire for greatness myself. Hugh Justice Ignar said it could be helpful in my studies, or perhaps a place to keep private notes not meant for the public eye. Either way, this journal begins.

My name is Markus Frude. At the time of this writing, I am fifteen years of age, and am living in the household of High Justice Ignar in the Camaden capital city of Thirmir. I stand at an even one-point-eight-five meters, have wheat-golden hair, and eyes the color of the stormy sea, or at least that's how High Justice Ignar describes them.

I am originally from a village with no name, and am in training to become a Justicar.

* * *

23/01/82

Already, I have fallen lax in my effort to keep a daily record, but truth be told, not much happens here in the ways of excitement. Today was an exception.

I had a conversation with High Justice Ignar, discussing a possible time I might be able to join a Justicar circuit for my apprenticeship. He assured me that he would bring the topic up next time a circuit was to be made. However, it will not be for some time, seeing as it is the middle of Winter.

High Justice Ignar also made the comment about my Truthsense. "To be able to discern not only those who were telling obvious fallacies, but even those who had bent even the slightest of truth to their favor, your gift continues to astound not only myself, but all of the Justices. I have never trained someone who had such an adept feel for their Truthsense."

I'm hoping this puts me in a more favorable position for a circuit, when it comes time.

* * *

24/01/82

In attempting to keep a daily record of my dealings, I find I am at a loss. I have sat here in the Hall of Vigil, where history, lore, and the tales of Justicars past are kept, staring at the journal before me. I am unable to find any daily topics of notoriety about which to write. I have spent a majority of the day, and also a majority of my studies, in this Hall, reviewing the written history of the decisions handed down by the Justicars.

When I was younger, I asked High Justice Ignar why I was to learn of verdicts derived from more than three centuries ago. He sat me down, and said, "The Camaden people often see the Justicars as a symbol of light, and a balancing force, in times of crisis. This brings them a sense of comfort, and we must remain consistent in our decisions to foster this belief. If we were to begin making decisions that went against precident, the people would become confused, and lose faith in the Justicars abilities to bring an unbiased resolution to the case."

He then asked if I understood, and I said yes. I then devoted as much time as I could to reading the tomes in the Hall. Many times, High Justice Ignar would test me over decisions I had reviewed. These exams have stopped as of late, and I cannot ascertain as to why.

* * *

25/01/82

Another day passes, and I am here in the Hall, left with nothing about which to write. I do suppose I can take this space to write of my beginnings.

As I said previously, I came from a village with no name, to parents I have never, and will never, know, save for the few scraps of information I have been able to piece together. This village, which laid on the southernmost point of Camaden, was a haven to those who engaged in nefarious activities, namely piracy and smuggling. It was known, at one time, Camaden was the largest source of Dust in all of Remnant, and even though the mines have gone barren and their labor force long gone, a few enterprising souls venture into the abandoned sites in hopes of discovering a new vein or two. Often, they recover only specks of Dust, but four years ago, one of these parties discovered an entire untapped geode.

My story took an unusual detour. All of the following information has been told to me either by High Justice Ignar, Retribution Justicars, or the survivors of the "passing of judgement" incident.

My parents were pirates, illegitimately seizing the booty of passing ships that ventured too close to the Camaden Cape. On one such occasion, my mother boarded a light schooner and "met" my father. He had been defending the vessel, but became so infatuated with my mother at first sight, he threw down his weapon and surrendered to her.

This surprising display only confused my mother. She took my father prisoner, taking him back to the village, and had planned on ransoming him off. Unbeknownst to her, that was my father's plan. As the months went on, she became smitten by my father's charm, eventually releasing him. Nine months to the day of his release, the Earth Mother bore a mother new, as I entered the world.

One year later, an early Fall freeze kept my parents from making port when they were out on a run. The next Spring, word came back that they had tried to make for Atlas, only to come under fire from the Atlasian armed forces. Most of them perished in the ensuing firefight, including my parents, while the three survivors returned to Camaden in chains, as part of Amendment XV, Section XII, subsection six of the revised Northern Accords. The prisoners were then questioned, the village was found, and a team of Retribution Justicars were sent out to "pass judgement" upon it, destroying it.

In the chaos, I was found. I was returned to Thirmir, my lineage was discovered, and I have been here since, under the watchful tutelage of High Justice Ignar, the one who ordered the village's destruction. I have undertaken the Justicar's path for punishment of the sins from my father.

For anyone reading this who is unfamiliar with Camaden tradition, or if it falls from favor, the transgressions of those who came before are passed onto the following generation, and they will seek to rectify the sins of their fathers and mothers, should they not be able to do so themselves. This practice has been in place since the Great Blending, and is said to help bring the spirits of those who have passed back into balance. Most transgressions are petty, and can be balanced by a small act of charity. But, with someone like me, whose parents were both associated with piracy, it's a life sentence.

Not that I mind. The life of the Justicar isn't glamorous, but neither do they go hungry. All settlements throughout Camaden respect the Justicars, even those above the Ice Circle. It may seem harsh, but I'm ready to serve.

* * *

28/01/82

I have received the news for which I have been waiting! I will be following Justice Sventen for the first circuit of the year, come Spring! I'm still so stunned from the news, I can barely keep my hand steady enough to write!

It may still be a month away, but I still cannot contain my excitement!

* * *

05/02/82

I have come down from the high of my circuit apprenticeship selection, partially due to time, but also due to a trading caravan that passed through with news most disturbing. One of them came up to the Hall, saying they had just come from a southern village when they claimed to have spotted a creature of Grimm. Those who were in attendance seemed skeptical, but my Truthsense didn't detect any deception, and I could hear genuine fear in his words.

I had no choice but to believe him. A creature of Grimm, this far north? There hasn't been a sighting of such a beast since before the Camaden Revolution. Theories suggest that it might have to do with the northern latitudes, whilst other more superstitious people say it is because of our devotion to the Earth Mother that keeps us safe from the Grimm seeing and feeding on our negative thoughts.

I brought this information to High Justice Ignar. In the years he has acted as my surrogate father, I had never seen him looked concerned, until today. He then tells me if Grimm are truly on Camaden, it could mean that dark forces could be stirring in the south. But to the south, there is nothing but the sea, though there are the combat schools even further to the southeast and southwest. Surely they have not been overwhelmed.

I can only hope this is not the start of something more.

* * *

14/02/82

A Retribution Justicar has destroyed the Grimm that had been spotted. Thank the Mother. There was discussion of delaying my Justicar circuit for safety concerns, but it seems that we will be free to leave on schedule.

* * *

03/03/82

My preparations for my circuit apprenticeship had taken up most of my time, and so explains my less than regular writing. However, we are now on the road, and Sister Sun herself has blessed our departure. It is unseasonably warm, the skies were crystal clear, and we could hear the sounds of the ice cracking in the harbor. The men of the caravan set up camp in just longjackets. I believe fortune smiles upon us this trip.

High Justice Ignar came down from the Hall to see us off. It is unusual for a High Justice to do this as we were just attending to the usual business of preparing to depart, but I think everyone understood the importance to him, after having played the part of the father.

He did bestow upon me a gift; a book, titled "The Knight Paladin of Camaden." I remember this book fondly. It tells the tale of a noble knight, whose heart was filled with purity and light, who came to the aid of four maidens when they were attacked by dark forces. He intervened, and then saw to it that they would be protected from harm for the rest of their journey in search of an old wizard. As the party neared their quest's end, the eldest of the maiden sisters told the knight only the four of them could continue, but they would one day find and reward him for his heroism. The knight never saw the maidens again, but legend hold he still stands fast, patiently awaiting the maidens' return.

A good fairy tale that brought a smile upon my face when it was given to me. High Justice Ignar could feel my happiness, and I think I felt a sense of pride coming from him.

* * *

07/03/82

We have finally reached our first destination, being the small farming village of Igthankul. Our caravan pulled in just as the Sun dipped below the horizon, and Justice Sventen sent me to find lodging. I thankfully found an inn, and am grateful to be on a bed again. I'm writing in the dying light of a candle, barely managing to keep my eyes open.

* * *

08/03/82

I don't know how Justice Sventen did it, but he awoke before dawn, had an innkeeper fetch him breakfast, and turned the common hall of the inn into his own little Justicar hall, all before I had cracked an eye. I apologized profusely for my tardiness, but he only laughed, saying he had suffered a similar fate on his first circuit.

We have been called to Igthankul to assist with a land dispute between two families. I present the case as it was presented to me:

In the village, the two families in question had sharecropped a piece of land for several generations. The current farmers made arrangements for their sons to continue, as was their tradition. However, several weeks before the first of the old farmers died, a dispute between the sons seemed to have voided the agreement, as each of the elders changed their wills to bequeath the full share of the land to their respective sons, and not the previously arranged sharecrop agreement. The body of his father was still warm when Agnar, one of the sons, claimed sole ownership. Three days later, the father of Kinnle, the other son, also began to claim sole ownership.

While Justice Sventen presided over the opening oral arguments, I was charged with reviewing each of the elders' business ledgers, seeing if I could spot any discrepancy that would point to a cause of the dispute. My effort was in vain. Their well-detailed books documented equal shares in everything, from workloads to expenses, and profits. It was as if they had prepared for this kind of contingency.

* * *

09/03/82

Well, that was most certainly unexpected.

We're on the road again, having resolved the Igthankul case. During the resumption of the arguments, of which I was present, my Truthsense would not settle, which told me there were hidden motives behind the words of the sons. I'm surprised Justice Sventen could not sense it, but it started to go haywire when a man and what I presumed to be his daughter entered the hall.

I whispered to Justice Sventen to call a short recess, in which I told him of my feelings. He was reluctant to call what he thought was a random, innocent girl to testify, but I made my case convincingly enough for him to try. When he called the girl to speak, each of the sons leapt from their chairs. The ruse was up when both Agnar and Kinnle said they had been promised the hand of the girl in marriage if they won sole possession of the land, and convinced their fathers that an incident had occurred between the families, forcing them to change the previous agreement. Further inquiry led to the discovery that the girl's father had orchestrated the entire plan. A quick Sold Meld by me determined his true intention: To wed his daughter, then divorce, and seek custody of the land.

When this information was brought to light, both of the sons swore off the daughter, and entered an sharecropping agreement, as their fathers had done. Justice Sventen seemed pleased with this outcome.

* * *

10/03/82

Justice Sventen shared a most troubling thought with me after we had made camp. He said he regretted not bringing the girl or her father to justice, even though he couldn't, since they technically did nothing wrong.

I shared that I understood the predicament, but that justice would serve itself in time. The man's ruse was exposed, and his name is now covered in shame. No one will do business or associate themselves willingly with him, or his family, for quite some time.

Justicar Sventen's expression slowly morphed into a gleaming smile. He said I was already wise beyond my years, and was destined to make a fine Justicar.

I only hope I can live up to the faith he has fostered in me.

* * *

28/03/82

We are nearing a month on the road, but more importantly, today is my sixteenth birthday.

This is my Day of Passing, when the sins of my forebearers are recognized as passed on to me.

After camp had been made, I was brought before Justice Sventen in observance of the Passing. It is a relatively short ceremony, where I enter a plea on behalf of my parents. Though I, myself, will never see punishment for their actions, Justice Sventen accepted the plea nonetheless, adding I was already on the way to redeeming my family name.

Supplemental entry:

We're now having a small celebration, and I've been drinking this stuff called mead. It's fantastic!

Also, one of our caravaneers has gone missing. Passed out somewhere?

* * *

04/04/82

They're dead. They have to be.

I didn't want to believe the sentry when he came back, yelling in horror that he had been ambushed by a creature of Grimm. I staggered to ready our defense, but I've only had training in basic hand-to-hand fighting. Justice Sventen only told me to run, to tell the others at Thirmir.

I turned to give my objection when I saw it. A great beast, black as the night, Moon-white claws jutting out of its arms, and those piercing blood red glowing eyes. My Focused Sight tore me away from the soulless beast when I heard Justice Sventen shouting my name. The last thing he said was telling me to run, before the creature tore through him.

To my shame, I ran. I've been running since that night, as far as my legs can take me. But I must rest, otherwise I'll suffer their fate.

* * *

05/04/82

I don't know how, but they found me.

This will be my final entry, as I cannot hide from them forever. Earth Mother, guide me home to Kolvngar.

* * *

07/04/82

How am I alive?

I awoke to the sight, smell, and noise of a roaring campfire, and to the company of a passing adventurer. She tells me, after my encounter with the small pack of Beowolves, I fell onto the ground and went colder than a warrior in steel armor. She recovered my unconscious from and brought me to safety.

I thanked her, then asked of my caravan. Her vibrant eyes looked away, saying she couldn't tell me, for she did not know. She then asked me where I had learned to engage Grimm like I had. When I told her that I had never learned from anywhere, she became puzzled. She walked to know about my Semblance, and I could only return a confused look, saying I had no idea to what she was referring.

She approached me, and placed a hand upon my face to conduct a Soul Meld. I was naturally hesitant, but she assured me it would be faster than me trying to explain what happened. As she read through my soul, her facial expressions went from shock, to fear, then to disbelief.

She disconnected from me, stood, and told me that _we_ needed to get to Vale. I protested, insisting my place was here in Camaden, and that I needed to get back to Thirmir to report to High Justice Ignar. She then told me that I had an unprecedented amount of Aura. "Aura" is a concept of which I knew; it being the physical manifestation of one's soul. I asked about informing the Hall of my departure, and of the fate of the caravan, and she assured me it would be taken care of once we arrived at Beacon Academy.

She then said her name was Verde, and that a vessel was heading back to Vale in two days. Mother, watch over me.

* * *

12/04/82

Can't write. Too busy heaving my stomach contents into the water.

* * *

16/04/82

We arrived in the city of Vale this morning, and no a moment too soon. I don't think my body was meant to travel on the open sea. My robes are fitting more loosely. I must have lost weight, being as I could hardly keep anything down.

When I first set my eyes upon Vale, I didn't believe I was gazing at a city, at first. I had never seen such pristine architecture, and the streets and buildings themselves are so clean… and tall. Verde assured me there were even taller structures that laid beyond Vale. I also saw my first flying vehicle. We have known that these aircraft existed, but I had never seen on in flight until today. They must be marvels of engineering.

But none of what I saw compared to when I was brought to Beacon Academy. Had my jaw not been attached to my skull, I would have had to run after it. A great towering spire scrapped at the sky, while precisely cut stonework led to the school itself. I truly felt a stranger in a strange land.

I had little time to dwell, for as we approached the school, we were met by a woman who greeted Verde like an old friend. I was incorrect in my initial assumption of this woman being the headmistress, when she introduced herself as Glynda Goodwitch, the assistant to the headmaster.

Had she not been holding herself in such an authoritarian posture, or holding her riding crop, I would have assumed otherwise.

Verde mentioned to me that she needed to discuss a matter in private with Glynda, so I turned my attention to the surrounding landscape. It's quite a vibrant color of green here, and incredibly warm. I have been lightly perspiring since stepping off our ship. The school itself sits upon an outcropping of a cliff and into a lake, to the east I can see a valley filled with trees, beyond which lies a mountain range. The city of Vale is below us to the west, a more proximal, yet shorter, mountain range lies to the south, and to the north, I am unsure. All I saw was a hue of red.

Verde called for my attention, and I could tell from her tone that something was amiss. When I faced her, she was visibly flustered, and said we would be seeing Professor Ozpin. As we began toward the main spire, Glynda loudly said something to the tune of, "You know he's always had a special place for you." I didn't ponder what she could have possibly meant until now. We're sitting outside a pair of retracting double doors, waiting for Professor Ozpin's previous appointment to conclude. I'm utilizing the time to put down some tho-

* * *

17/04/82

I required a full day to comprehend and digest what Professor Ozpin, Verde, and I discussed. I could not get a clear impression on Ozpin, other than he was a man that maintained a distance, but was always calculating. He greeted Verde with less enthusiasm than Miss Goodwitch, but there was still caring in his voice.

After we observed introductions, I learned Verde was a former student at this school, then turning to the adventurer route upon graduating. My Truthsense dully tingled, indicating a half-truth, but I hadn't the opportunity to pursue the matter before being told I would attend Beacon Academy in one year's time, if I so chose.

My initial response was one of reluctance, as I had been picked from my home, told I had some kind of hidden power, and brought to a foreign land. Professor Ozpin understood my confusion. He said, as a Huntsman, he is to seek out and destroy all threats to humanity, and training future Huntsman and Huntresses was his way of fulfilling his duty. He wished to train me, send me through Beacon and develop my skills, and then send me back to Camaden. I had mentioned the Grimm encounter in our conversation, and that is when he suggested I become a student.

My Truthsense tingled yet again. I called him out, saying there was information he was keeping from us.

Professor Ozpin seemed… intrigued I called him out on his half-truth. More interestingly, he knew of Truthsense, and commented on my ability of detection. He and Verde explained that I retained a large Aura, "an unprecedented amount," as Verde mentioned again, but it is only partially active. It could suddenly manifest, and, since my Semblance ability is unknown, I pose a danger to those around me. Keeping and training me at Beacon was, in their professional opinions, the best safeguard against such an event from happening. I asked if I would ever return to Camaden, to which Professor Ozpin replied that I would, once my Semblance had manifested.

I accepted their invitation. It isn't every day you get told you are a walking time bomb.

I still retained the feeling that additional information was being withheld, but as I started to say something about it, I was told it was information for which I was not ready, and being told it now would place my safety, and sanity, at risk.

How… I don't… what the…


	12. Markus's Journal, Part II

18/04/82

Verde and I have been assigned a living space in the staff section of the Beacon dormitories. Our sudden arrival has forced us to share quarters for the time being, however I have been assured that another vacancy in the student wing is sure to open within the coming month.

Sister Moon has long since risen, and I find myself unable to put my mind at ease. The words of Professor Ozpin keep repeating themselves. For what am I not ready? What are they keeping from me?

Supplemental entry:

I was finally granted the serenity of sleep around four o'clock this morning. It occurred to me, since I have been on the road for the better portion of two months, I had not given proper tribute to Sister Sun or Sister Moon. The moonlight had long departed from the window, but I still faced eastward nonetheless, and went through the nightly ritual. The effects were instant, and a wave of exhaustion came over me.

I was then awoken by Verde at eleven this morning, telling me to bathe, then dress in clothes she had requisitioned from… somewhere. I had not given it a thought until now. But it is of no matter, as I have been told that Verde and I would be venturing into the city of Vale to purchase more clothes, food, necessary supplies for our stay, and a device called a "Scroll." I asked how I would be able to pay appropriate compensation for such items, but Verde told me to not worry about such minutiae.

Also, when I came out of the washroom, I was told my Justicar robes had been taken for dry cleaning… which does not make sense to me. How does one "dry clean?"

Supplemental entry:

What a day! We have just arrived back to our quarters after our extended excursion into Vale. This city gleams with such luminosity, it almost hurts my eyes. It is also incredibly warm here. I am currently suffering the effects of my first sunburn. Verde says it is due to my pale "Northern" complexion, and eventually I will adapt to the intensity of sunlight of the southern latitudes.

We made quite a haul on supplies. A once-empty dresser designated for me has been filled, our kitchen is stocked, and the bookcase now stands proudly full of books, mainly of the non-fiction variety. I have much to learn of the history of the southern kingdoms before I am officially admitted to Beacon.

While on the subject of books, I had a rather strange encounter with a bookstore owner. His name was Tukson, and I could tell something was unique about him the moment our eyes made contact. I believe he sensed my suspicion, and I could tell it was making him uneasy. I confronted him about my feeling, being quickly stopped by Verde.

Tukson assured Verde that my question was alright. He could easily tell I was not from Vale, and had never seen a "Faunus." I had heard of those people who possessed traits of animals, but, to my knowledge, had never met one until today. He seemed surprised, after my learning of his Faunus lineage, that I continued shopping. I overheard Verde tell him I had no knowledge of something called the "Faunus Revolution," or the "White Fang." Upon departing, he told us we were welcome back at any time.

* * *

19/04/82

I was surprised this morning to find I was the first to wake. I walked into the bedroom to see if Verde had roused, only to find her sleeping diagonally in her bed, limbs sprawled in every direction, and softly snoring. It was almost too adorable for words.

Mornings are tranquil here. There is a serene calmness in the still morning air, save for the songbirds who have begun their daily chorus. I looked to the east to see a pallet of deep reds, oranges, and yellows of which I have never seen, streaming over the mountains.

It is peaceful here, far unlike the harsh lands of Camaden.

Verde has just awoken. She entered the main living area, still in her sleepwear, looking quite disheveled. She must be a hard sleeper, or our adventure yesterday wore her out. Before disappearing into the washroom, she instructed me to change into the athletics wear we purchased, for today, we would begin training.

I will be learning the "Spring" fighting technique, personally developed by Verde during her time at Beacon. This technique, as I have been told, places emphasis in close-quarters engagements, quick and debilitating strikes, and grappling and subduing. I asked if it would involve any weapons training, with Verde replying that if I learned her technique well enough, I will never need a weapon. We would train with them, nonetheless, but at a later time.

I look forward to beginning.

Supplemental entry:

I regret having ever crossed paths with Verde.

The morning started well, with us making and eating a hearty breakfast. Afterward, we attended an activity called "yoga" with a group of current students. It was quite a nice experience, along with getting to meet other prospective Huntsmen and Huntresses.

When the class was dismissed, much to my disappointment, Verde led me to an unused sparring room. She then told me to attempt to hit her. I was hesitant, naturally, but she assured me she would be able to take any strikes I could throw, and that this was so she could have a baseline of my fighting skill.

As Justicars, we are only given enough combat training to subdue the always possible rambunctious actions of an accused. This includes defending, and fast, non-lethal strikes. I demonstrated these to Verde to the best of my ability, to little effect. Every punch I threw, she countered. Every block I had up, she saw a way through it.

In a last bit of frustration, I threw a jab that Verde caught, then ducked under and threw me over her shoulder. As I laid on the ground, Verde gave me my first lesson: "Emotions cloud judgement in an engagement." She then said she had enough information from me to have a baseline, and that training could begin.

I spent the rest of the day learning and holding combat poses, being corrected by Verde as she saw fit. She is quite the studious teacher, as by back, front, arms, and legs are red and bruised from her "corrections."

It makes me miss all the reading I could have done in the Hall by now.

* * *

07/07/82

It seems a great deal of time has passed since my last journal entry, though it hasn't been from a lack of trying. Most nights, I would sit at my desk, and be too exhausted to form a thought worthy enough to set down in words. However, tonight seems to be an exception. I'm either adapting to Verde's training, or I'm about to undergo a psychotic breakdown. I like to think it is the former.

Speaking of training, we have moved on from basic form memorization to transitory movement practice. Verde tells me that half of the attacks I make will come from these motions, the other half either immediately before or following them. Verde is happy I am making progress, but I can tell it is not at the rate she wishes. I'm doing my best, and that is all I can do at this point.

I have made several friends since attending the yoga class. Verde is at least content in that.

* * *

08/10/82

Again, too long of a timespan has passed since my last entry, but this time, it has mainly been due to a lack of things about which to talk. That was the case, until today.

Verde has progressed my training to include light sparring, to begin to incorporate elements of what I have learned and apply them more practically. That is when things began to… make sense. I can now see the purpose of my movements, connect and string together combinations of strikes and movements. Verde could see it, too, when things began to click.

I vocalized this to her today, saying I was getting used to her training. A look of long sought relief washed over her, as she said she was finally glad to start the intense training.

Verde did not waste any time. Today was the most intense sparring session I have experienced. Hands and feet were flying faster than ever, but she kept her relieved look throughout our session… until the end.

We were sparring at around half speed when she began to spin. That was not unusual; I have seen her do this literally hundreds of times. But as she continued her clockwise rotation, my Truthsense fired. Instinct then brought my right forearm up to employ an elbow block, even when Verde's positioning said "Defend low." At the last second, her leg shot up toward my head, and met my elbow with a slap.

When skin met skin, Verde's composure broke. Her other knee collapsed as she rolled several feet away. She regained herself, and asked how I was able to block her Equinox feign-low high. I told her of my Truthsense registering, and my instinctive response.

She commended me, saying I was the first person to have ever successfully countered that move. In my studies, I have read of certain Semblances being able to control actions in extreme circumstances. Perhaps my Truthsense and Semblance are related, in some way. Verde has said that we will be exploring my Aura tomorrow, using a technique to unlock it.

* * *

09/10/82

I am currently writing in the medical wing of Beacon. There's been an… incident with Verde.

We began our day normally, with yoga and sparring, when she decided to use her Aural unlocking technique. She placed her hand on my cheek, the other over my heart, and everything seemed to be going well, when I started to feel a pressure in my chest. I tried to stop Verde, but she just told me to relax and try to stay calm. The pressure suddenly intensified, and Verde flew to the other side of the sparring ring. I went to see if she was alright, but at the time, she was unconscious. I threw her over a shoulder and ran here.

That was two hours ago now. She has, thankfully, regained consciousness in that time, and is resting. Professor Ozpin and Miss Goodwitch came sprinting into the medical wing, both with looks of dread. They relaxed when they learned Verde was stable, then proceeded to question me about what had happened.

I willfully obliged, sparing no detail about our encounter. After I had completed my oral report, they both seemed confused. I don't know how to explain it. They then left to go research what might have gone wrong.

I know Verde is special, but to have enticed such a reaction from the both of them…

Supplemental entry:

Verde has been released, and we have retired to our quarters for the day. She appears to be in good spirits, and is eating and talkative. I still feel horrible for what happened. Verde keeps telling me to not worry, as if I can simply dismiss this. She says that Aura and Semblance can be a fickle thing… and dangerous, apparently.

In spite of this, she wishes to continue with training, by sending me to the Emerald Forest tomorrow.

* * *

10/10/82

The Emerald Forest. I can clearly see how it received its namesake. Though, topographically speaking, I believe it should be named as a valley which happens to have a forest within it.

After being launched into the valley from some kind of spring-loaded platform, I landed among some dense shrubbery, rolling to kill my final momentum. Verde contacted me on my Scroll to congratulate me on my landing, then gave me my mission: I was to retrieve a relic at an abandoned settlement on the far side of the forest. I was also told that I would encounter creatures of Grimm along the way, and should not hesitate to destroy them.

I encountered only two Grimm on the way to the site, which I was told was unusual. I asked if it was due to the lateness of the year, but the reply I received was from Miss Goodwitch, commanding me to move to a clearing to await Bullhead pickup.

I told her I would comply… at the completion of my objective. I was well within sight distance of the ruin's location by that time, and decided to continue with the task at hand.

My foolish, or perhaps stubborn (or both), sense of duty nearly ended me, for as I approached the ruins, a Death Stalker emerged from its den. It moved to attack, while I moved into more defensive grounds among the trees to determine the Stalker's intention. When it barreled through the first line with no regard to its surroundings, they became clear: It was set on destroying me.

In my readings over these last few months, I have read of various types of Grimm, from the small and docile Nevermore to the ferocious Death Stalker. As the Stalker was marching through the vegetation, I had a realization from a passage concerning its tail. I remembered it was powerful enough to break rock, and had the ability to redirect itself mid-lunge.

Using this information, I devised a plan, but first would need to agitate the beast. My memory of the execution of this event is blurry, but I do remember dodging its claws, doing a heel-slam onto one of its eyes, and then sliding under its belly as its stinger was coming down, forcing the Stalker to strike itself. I vividly remember the audible cracking it made when the stinger penetrated its own carapace.

I stood to see the creature fall lifeless and beginning to disintegrate, then turned back to the ruin, only to see several unoccupied pedestals. I also heard the sounds of a Bullhead in flight. I ran to the ruin and hastily picked up the nearest portable loose object, which was a palm-sized chunk of carved marble.

The Bullhead came into view, landed in the clearing, and I was ordered to board by the occupant. I complied, and a short ride later, I was back on Beacon grounds, with an obviously agitated Miss Goodwitch to greet me on the landing platform, along with Professor Ozpin and Verde.

Miss Goodwitch immediately set upon me, demanding to know what I was thinking. She didn't appreciate my answer, as I said I was merely completing a given task. Miss Goodwitch looked to Professor Ozpin for support, but he chose to hold his tongue.

During their exchange, I reached for and presented my recovered "relic." Verde saw this small token, and her still face lit up with joy. Miss Goodwitch and Professor Ozpin took note, and turned back to me. I walked to and placed the piece at their feet, saying, and I quote: "There wasn't anything else for me to retrieve, so I hope with will suffice."

I then proceeded to return to my quarters, and have been here since then. Not the best move on my part, but i knew not what else to do. Verde has yet to return. I believe she is talking to (or being talked to) Miss Goodwitch and Professor Ozpin.

Supplemental entry:

Verde returned no more than two hours ago, aglow with a giddy grin on her face, and my recovered marble piece in her hand. Upon further discussion, my resolve in completing my mission and display of combat ingenuity has stayed my premature expulsion from Beacon. However, my entrance will be delayed one year, "as a way to distance ourselves from this incident," Professor Ozpin told Verde. In addition, we have been "sentenced" to six months of hard training.

When Verde told me this, I could not help but to laugh. The best part of it, she joined me.

It is going to be a most splendid Winter.

* * *

04/04/83 - Year of the Amethyst

So, there may have been an... incident involving one of the new teams, a Fire crystal, and me, trying to demonstrate my resistance to Dust.

There's a fairly sizeable hole in one of the northern spires. One of the on-campus security guards rounded a corner, and Velvet panicked and dropped the crystal, it destabilized, and blew. Thankfully, no one was hurt.

We were all brought before Professor Ozpin for an explanation, when I took full and sole responsibility, even when it was one of Team CFVY's crystals, and their idea. My plea was accepted, and Professor Ozpin dismissed us, saying he would find a fitting punishment for me at a later time.

Who knew being sociable could be so dangerous?

* * *

15/06/83

My punishment for the aptly named "Spire Incident" has finally been decided. It will be a mission. I don't know how this equivalates with punishment, but apparently this call for help has certain specifications to which I am uniquely qualified.

Supplemental entry:

I have just received mission notes twenty minutes ago, and I know understand why I am going.

We have been called to a small town to the southwest, to help settle a land dispute. The local presiding regional judge has been taken for ill, and both parties are seeking an immediate hearing, and Beacon is the only available party for arbitration. Going over the notes, it seems quite similar to Igthankul, but this is an intrafamily dispute.

I will be accompanying a second year team, Team TRNP, to which this mission was originally assigned. Though nothing is expected to happen, this is a precautionary measure. White Fang activity has been known to occur in this area, and there has been a notable increase in the last few months.

I do find it strange why a community would reach out to a Huntsman school for arbitration. It could have been Professor Ozpin's suggestion, I suppose.

In celebration of my first "official" mission, Verde has given me a gift. She calls it a "dogi," a lightweight and flexible combat outfit personally designed by her. It is to better reflect the Spring fighting style, but the outfit itself carries no armor. "So you better remember to dodge," she told me as I came from the bedroom wearing the green dogi with its blue underlay.

I should return in two days' time, provided all goes well.

* * *

17/06/83

It was a Mother-forsaken White Fang ruse, and we took it, hook, line, and sinker!

All seemed to be well when we arrived in Bluff Falls. Our arrival was expected, we were given a tour, saw the series of falls from where the town received its name, then retired to our guest rooms. I did not voice this to the team, but I felt this burning sensation where my Truthsense normally manifests. Never in my life have I had such a feeling, but it would come and go throughout the day, so I paid it little mind.

The following morning, I was shown the hall in which deliberation would take place. The members of TRNP were not allowed to join me, which, at the time, I found bizarre. Deliberations proceeded normally, and a forged will was the only evidence needed to exonerate the accused. The accuser continued to plead his case, despite my summary judgement, also claiming I had no authority to render such a decision.

I calmly informed him that I had been granted temporary authority by the Vale Council for this one case, and my decision would be recognized throughout the kingdom. He raised his hand to protest, but stopped when I called for a recess, just so I could get away from his incessant voice. I retreated to the room acting as a private chamber and attempted to contact TRNP, only to not receive a reply.

Immediately following my attempt at communication, I quickly learned two things: A backstabbing attempt registers on Truthsense, and the true motives of the White Fang. My Truthsense fired suddenly, and instinct told me to dodge right. As I did, my assailant's blade found the wall, and buried itself to the hilt. I brought a foot around for an Equinox kick, and found the rear of my attacker's head. The figure went limp.

I turned the unconscious body over to reveal my attacker was the accused. I fought off momentary confusion, then attempted a Soul Meld, but could not believe what the low cunning and depth of their plans. The White Fang intended to capture a team from Beacon, brainwash them, then ransom the team back to the school, only to have them be sleeper agents and informants.

Fortune was in my favor, as the accused had seen the exact location where TRNP was to be held. I opened and crawled through the window, then departed into the nearby woodlands, finding my captive companions a short distance away from the town. There were only two posted White Fang guards, dressed in their normal attire. A taller make Faunus, in a more ornate mask, who I assumed was the mastermind, stood before the bound team, lecturing them on his intention about which he was lying.

A fourth figure stood to the leader's left; another Faunus, but unadorned in any of the traditional regalia that would identify her as a member of the White Fang. She didn't even bother to hide her face. She was doing her best to appear resolute, but even I could tell she was taking issue with what was transpiring before her golden eyes.

One of the guard's fingers went to an ear. I assumed my absence back at the hall had been discovered, and that he was being informed. It was time to take action.

I pressed the emergency transponder on my Scroll, and revealed myself from over, much to the surprise of everyone. One of the guards charged, and I simply reached out with a Monsoon jab. The other raised his weapon to fire, but was met by my taking of his weapon, and proceeding to knock him unconscious with it. I still do not know how I reached over so fast.

After disposing of the guards, I demanded the immediate release of TRNP, to which the leader turned to the unadorned girl. She simply nodded, and in a blink, was engaging me with a short sword. I barely had time to evade her first strike when she came back around with another. As she did, I saw a momentary opening in her defense, and reached out to strike. It hit, and as it did, she let out an audible gasp. I did not strike with great intensity, which leads me to believe this was out of surprise rather than pain.

I moved to disengage, indulging in a bit of light banter as I regained posture and analyzed her attack patterns. She did not appreciate my combat dialogue, as her weapon came flying at me, then sailed back with the sound of a gunshot and the whipping of a tether. Crazy inspiration struck, and I dashed to my captive comrades. Her weapon came at me again, but I had saw how it flew, and caught it, placing it between the bindings. The weapon began to to go back, cutting the rope in the process, and taking me with it.

As I reached to unadorned girl, my hand reached for a Soul Meld, and briefly touched her face. I believe she could sense what was taking place, and reacted with a downward wild swipe from her blade, catching between my eyes, and along my left cheek. I didn't realize the gravity of my wound until I had boarded the Bullhead. My Soul Meld was long enough to confirm my suspicion. She carried doubt in her heart about the legitimacy of her cause, and I called her out on it. She reacted negatively, yelling in great anger that I knew nothing of oppression. I said that she was right, but I did know of redemption, saying her skills were wasted.

The Bullhead flew overhead and dropped rappel lines. Team TRNP moved to board as the White Fang leader moved to engage, but was fired upon by the combined fire of the team and the mounted gun on the Bullhead. When I went to grab a line, I said she could use her skills for greater things, and urged her to go to Beacon. The line tensed, and I was pulled away. I then passed out when I was pulled aboard.

I awoke in the medical wing after being told I have over one hundred stitches on my face. Verde apparently had a panic attack when I was being brought into the wing, and has yet to leave the side of my bed. Professor Ozpin came by earlier, apologizing for not seeing the obvious trap. I told him to not dwell on it, that we are only human, and we make mistakes. He didn't seem to like my response, as he looked contemplative, and left without saying another word.

I'm feeling constrained. I hope I am released soon.

* * *

18/06/83

I've been released from the medical wing and am resting in our quarters. Verde still refuses to leave my side, and she herself keeps apologizing to me. I finally grabbed her, looked her in the eyes, and said that had it not been for her training, I wouldn't be alive. But then, as we looked at each other, I felt a warming feeling in my stomach.

I guess you never realize the connection you make with someone until an event like this happens.

* * *

19/06/83

Due to my injury, Verde has let me sleep on the bed. This morning, I awoke with her arms around me. It was surprising at first, but I didn't dismiss it. It was quite… comforting.

* * *

12/09/83

Is it wrong for student to fall for their mentor? I know shouldn't, but…

* * *

19/10/83

Something has happened that has Verde on edge and jumpy. She is reluctant to speak of it, even to Professor Ozpin. All she has divulged is her sister was attacked, and is in critical condition. I try to comfort her, but she doesn't seem to care for it.

It's worrying me.

* * *

25/10/83

Verde has been going somewhere at night. I hate to do it, but I need to know.

* * *

26/10/83

By the All Mother… all the stories, the legends. They're… they're…

* * *

01/02/84 - Year of the Amber… ironic

"Everything returns in its changed form." Those were the last words I heard Verde say as she boarded her vessel. I hope this means I will see her again, and it her changed form, though I already know what that is from our Soul Meld.

I told her that I already feel alone, even when she had yet to leave. She smiled warmly, and told me to go be with Team CFVY, that they had taken a liking to me, especially Velvet. Verde could tell from her "woman's intuition," which is strange with what I know now.

She also gifted me a personal weapon of hers. A blade, forged from a metal of which I have never seen, if it's metal at all. She told me to find a copy of "The Beggar Blacksmith," and I would understand.

Team CFVY _is_ on campus. Perhaps I should invite them for hot cocoa. It is quite cold today, after all.


	13. Home Again

Blake thumbed through the remaining pages, discovering them to be blank. After the final page fell, she closed the journal from the back cover, running a hand over the leather binding, before reclining into Markus's couch. The team had migrated to the living area during the reading, with Blake and Yang claiming the piece of furniture, while Ruby and Weiss intensely listened from the floor.

"That's it," Blake said quietly. She leaned forward and placed the journal on the coffee table. "It ends there."

Yang whistled in awe as she kicked a leg out from under herself, sitting up in the process. "Wow, sounds like he's had a few more adventures than he's led us to believe."

"I dunno," Weiss wondered aloud. "Doesn't it sound like he was taken from Camaden against his will, or is it just me?"

"What, like he was kidnapped?" Ruby asked.

"Maybe not kidnapped. More along the lines of coerced to leave."

Yang hummed in agreement. "Not only that, but there are some times in there where it does get a bit… ambiguous, especially there at the end." She leaned to reach for the journal. "Like what did it say, there at the very end? 'Everything returns in its changed form?' What's that supposed to mean?"

"I have no idea, but I'm more interested in his first mission," Weiss said, looking to Blake.

"You mean his foray into the Emerald Forest?"

"No, his mission to Bluff Falls."

Blake's attention had been on Weiss, but at the mention of the location, she quickly looked to the journal now in Yang's hand. "You want to know about the fighter he called the 'unadorned.'"

Weiss nodded, all eyes now on Blake. "That was you, wasn't it?"

Blake slowly drew in a breath. "It was, yes," she said, nearly a whisper. "He was the one that convinced me to come to Beacon, that there were better causes worth fighting for."

Yang gave a small chuckle. "I suppose we owe him for having you with us, then."

"Tell us more about your fight!" Ruby excitedly said. "He didn't go into much detail about it."

Blake gave her head a small shake. "There's not much else to tell. It was short and fast… though I was genuinely surprised when he used the Gambol Shroud to free his captive team."

"I'm surprised he was able to keep up with you," Weiss remarked, earning a scathing eye from Blake. "That's not what I meant! It wasn't a knock on your abilities, but an astonishment at his."

"Yeah," Yang said. "He had only been training for a year, and you've been fighting for most of your life, haven't you?"

"Believe me," Blake said, sighing, "I was just as amazed then as you are now, that a mere student could keep up with me." She closed her eyes. "There was a brief period where we traded blows that he didn't mention," she paused, running the engagement through her mind, "and now that I think on it…"

"What?" Ruby asked in anticipation.

Blake opened her eyes. "When we were fighting, I was using my Shadow Clones, but… it was like he could see right through them." Her sight went to Yang. "He never took his eyes off me."

"Weird," Yang said. "A testament to his training."

"Or maybe it's something else."

"Also," Ruby interjected, "what's so special about his blade that it requires a book to know about it?"

"As soon as I find a copy," Markus announced to the room, leaned against the doorframe, "and have the time to read it, I will let you know."

Team RWBY immediately flew to their feet. "Markus!" Ruby shouted. "I'm so sorry! Your door was open, and we thought -"

Markus held out a hand. "It's alright." He stood from the door and talked into his room. "I'm slightly annoyed that you're in here without my permission, but I suppose it is better the intruders are people I know, rather than some stranger."

The team all exhaled simultaneously. "How was your mission?" Weiss asked.

"The one from which I'm returning, or the one about which you read?" He asked, letting himself fall back into his couch between Blake and Yang. "I have no doubt you all have plenty of questions."

The girls resumed their seated positions. "How about we start with your most recent one," Yang suggested.

"It was eventful, unfortunately," Markus said, wiggling himself to a more comfortable position. "There was drama, soul searching, a firefight, roasted venison chops with mead." His hands went behind his head. "It was almost worthy of being in a storybook."

"A firefight?" Ruby inquired.

"Yes," Markus groaned. "If you would to know the specifics of it, I will cee-cee you the report I will be writing for Professor Ozpin and General Ironwood… provided you try not to share the information with anyone other than among yourselves."

Yang shrugged her shoulders. "Who would we tell?"

"Anyone," Markus quickly answered. "Everyone."

The girls laughed. "Well, our lips will be sealed," Yang said as she brought the journal front and center. "So, what more can you tell us about this?"

Markus held out a hand. "There's not much more to tell, unless you would like me to regale you in stories of how much time I've exhausted in reading."

"Oh, c'mon!" Yang edged on as she placed the journal into Markus's outstretched hand. "There's got to me more juicy details than that."

"Isn't that an extreme invasion of privacy, Yang?" Weiss interrupted. "At the beginning, Markus said that his journal was for private thoughts."

"That may be true," Markus agreed, "but high Justice Ignar also said that they were to be used for and by future generations." He used a foot to slide off a boot. "History books can tell you what happened, but they do a poor job of telling why, or convey the emotions of the participants." His other boot came off. "You were merely using it for its intended purpose, albeit its acquisition was a bit unorthodox." Markus turned to Blake. "How did you spot it, among the small library I have?"

"Something about it made it stand out against the others," Blake said. "I don't know if it was the color, or the wear, but my eyes went right to it." She gave the journal a glance. "What does it say on the front cover?"

Markus flipped the journal to its front. "It says 'Journal' in Old Atlesian."

"Called it," Weiss chimed.

Markus's Scroll buzzed twice in rapid succession. "Are you gonna answer that?" Yang asked after Markus didn't move to read it.

"I'm too exhausted to give it much of a thought," Markus said. "There's nothing that can't wait until tomorrow."

"Does that include letting your girlfriend know you're back?" a voice called from the door.

Markus turned to look over his couch to see Velvet standing in the doorway, arms folded. _I need to make sure my door are closed,_ he thought as he stood. "Of course not," he said.

"Then why did I have to hear from Coco, who heard it from Yatsuhashi, who heard it from someone else, that you were back?" Velvet asked with mild agitation.

Markus began to move toward Velvet. "In my defense, I was no more than five steps into my quarters when I was summoned to Professor Ozpin's office for debriefing."

Velvet also began to approach. "But you had the time to meet with your friends here, yeah?"

"They were here when I was dismissed," Markus said, the two of them now inches apart. His hands moved to his hips. "It appears I'm having issues shutting doors today."

"And why should I believe that?" she asked, mirroring Markus.

Markus smiled. "Because I said it."

Two seconds of intense staring passed before Velvet's composure broke. She smiled and leaned into Markus, wrapping her arms around him. She let out a content sigh. "I missed you."

Markus pulled Velvet into him. "I missed you, too."

Team RWBY watched the rekindling before Weiss made a silent gesture to the door, indicating they should depart. "Welp," Yang said as she stood, stretching her shoulders, "I think it's high time we hit the ol' dusty trail."

Velvet pulled away from Markus, tapping on his chest with two fingers, and seeing a puff of dust escape his dogi. "Speaking of dusty…"

Markus also watched the cloud dissipate, then turned back to Velvet, who was giving him a seductive eye. "You make a compelling argument."

"Before you two do that," Yang began as her and her team moved to leave, "you have to at least promise us answers to those questions."

"I'll answer what I can," Markus assured as Velvet removed his belt, "at a later time."

Team RWBY exited Markus's room, hearing the door latch and lock behind them. "Before they do what?" Ruby innocently asked. "Laundy?"

Yang pulled Ruby's hood over her sister's head. "Of a sort."

* * *

A slumbering Velvet was brought back into the waking world with a snort, after having the most peculiar dream of bowling Beowolves with a White Fang mask. She let out a quiet groan of disappointment from being awoken, stretched, and reached out to pull Markus into her. When her hands found empty air, she cracked open an eye to see Markus was no longer sleeping beside her, the overs thrown to indicate he had roused. Velvet's head lifted from her pillow as she glanced at the alarm clock, its soft glowing display showing "02:26."

A squeaking came from the bedroom door, causing Velvet to turn her hazy vision to it. In the dim light she could see it had been left ajar. _Moving air,_ Velvet told herself as she laid her head back down. _He must be in the bathroom._

Sleep did not readily come to her, and five minutes later, Velvet sat up fully. _He should have been back by now._ Aside from a small oscillating fan, the bedroom was silent, telling her Markus was not in the washroom, which was on the other side of the wall. She again looked to the nightstand hold the clock, and to the spot where he typically put his Scroll, to see it was also gone. Instinctive dread filled her heart, causing her to throw off her own covers, put on her robe, and move quietly into the main living area.

Though her scotopic vision was not akin when compared to other Faunus, her ears did hear the sounds of breathing upon stepping through the door frame. The breathing was slow and methodical, and she immediately recognized Markus's meditation breathing. Velvet could then faintly discern the seated figure of Markus himself, facing out his large window, silhouetted by the reflected moonlight from the eastern mountains. A wave of relief washed over her, letting out a barely audible breath.

Through the stillness of the night, Markus heard Velvet's release, causing him to open his eyes. He quietly cleared his throat. "Did my sudden absence startle you?" he asked softly.

"It did, a little," Velvet said, walking to Markus. She seated herself beside him, facing the window. "When I saw your Scroll was gone, I feared you had been called away, after just getting back."

Markus hummed. "If I had, I would have refused to go." He put an arm around Velvet. "I may be a Huntsman of some advanced skill upon which Professor Ozpin has come to rely, but even I need sleep."

Velvet rested her head on Markus's shoulder, her ears tickling the back of his neck. "So what are you still doing out here?"

"I awoke to relieve myself when I remembered I hadn't given the proper tribute to Sister Moon. I would have earlier, but I was…" he paused, giving Velvet a squeeze, "...otherwise preoccupied."

Velvet let out a laugh, louder than she intended. "I suppose so."

Markus couldn't help but let out a small chuckle of his own. "After giving my tribute, I stayed, and meditated." He held a hand out to the window. "I don't understand why, but I have observed that the might has an undeserved reputation in the southern kingdoms. It is almost seems like it should be something to be shunned."

"Well, it is when most of us sleep," Velvet said.

Markus gave his head a slight nod. "Perhaps I am biased on it, seeing as the coming of the night was once something I celebrated."

Velvet hummed in understanding. "Something to do with balance, I assume?"

"Yes," Markus said, turning and giving Velvet's forehead a small kiss. "And speaking of balance, the Fall Equinox is quickly approaching."

She looked back to Markus. "Are the Equinox days holy day to you and your people?"

Markus opened his mouth to speak, but his words caught. "They used to be."

"Used to be?"

"Not many Camadens are as devoted to the ways of balance as they once were. High Justice Ignar, however, thought it appropriate that a Justicar be a follower, so he and I were oddities among the current culture."

"Why abandon it?" Velvet asked. "It seems to bring you great peace of mind."

He shrugged. "I once asked the same to High Justice Ignar, and he said that there were many who thought the adherence to the old ways had kept Camaden from the world stage."

"I thought Camadens were paranoid of outsiders, by nature," Velvet said as she stood. She reached down to Markus. "Why would they want to be a world player?"

Markus took Velvet's hand, lifting himself up to his feet. "They young are often enticed by the technologies and stories of passing caravans, not realizing just how big the world outside of Camaden is."

Velvet's hands, still in Markus's, slid to his shoulders. "You've been out of Camaden for a while now. What do you think of the larger world?"

Markus smirked. "That has yet to be determined."

Velvet laughed. "Oh, I see." She started for the bedroom. "Still silently judging us, are you?"

He threw his arms out innocently. "I can't help being judgemental. Once upon a time, it was going to be my profession."

"You and your valid points," she said. "When and what is your first class tomorrow?"

"I have been excused from classes for today, in light of recent events."

"Good," Velvet said as she disappeared around the corner. "We can sleep in. Now, come back to bed."

Markus took one step toward his bedroom before stopping and looking to his Scroll. The title of the message he had received earlier still lingered in his mind. _The RMNT Initiative?_ He shook his head. _It can wait until after breakfast._

* * *

Markus awoke six hours later to the sound and smell of his coffee maker finishing its brewing cycle, and the feeling of Velvet nuzzled into his chest. He smiled in the morning glow and planted his lips on her head, knowing it would cause the light sleeping Velvet to wake. The effects were immediate, and as she stirred, her Faunus ears extended to their normal positions. "Nuh uh," she moaned in protest as she buried herself deeper.

Markus ran an affectionate hand down Velvet's back. "The call for coffee is strong in this one." He started to uncover himself. "I hadn't realized my dependence on -"

In an unexpected display, Velvet quickly pulled away from Markus and shoved down on his shoulder, pinning his back to the bed. A deviously playful grin same across Velvet as she climbed atop Markus, pulling the covers with her. "You are staying in this bed," she said with a sultry tone, "until I say otherwise."

Markus couldn't help but laugh at Velvet's sudden bravado. "Yes, ma'am!" he said. "From where is this?"

Velvet sighed as she laid on Markus's chest. "I started seeing this guy who I just feel comfortable being myself around." She rested her chin on his breastbone. "He's well-spoken, polite, intelligent… charming," her eyes looked away, "he's really cute, has gorgeous blonde hair, tall, fit."

Markus grinned non-stop through Velvet's description. "What's his name?" he jokingly asked.

Velvet responded by taking her pillow and lightly smothering Markus with it. She removed it and leaned in, whispering, "I don't think you would know him if I told you."

His Truthsense fired. "Is that so?" he asked as he rubbed behind his ear.

A sudden knock from the main door caused both of them to snap their attention to it. They both groaned in unison. "Will we ever get a moment's respite?" Velvet asked as she rolled off.

"I doubt it," Markus said as he rose from the bed. "I fear that keeping the peace is a constant, demanding process."

"It could at least do us the favor of keeping more convenient hours."

Markus donned a blue and green fleece robe. "I wish it would." He walked to the bedroom door before being overcome with a thought. "I am curious as to why they have only knocked once."

Velvet began to stir, taking her own robe and walking with Markus into the main living area. Upon reaching the door, she looked through the peephole. "No one's there," she quietly said, backing away.

Markus threw the latch slowly, easing the door open. He moved his head into the hall, observing it to be devoid of passerbys. He then looked down, seeing a brown box, taller than it was wide, resting at his feet. Markus picked the package up, immediately taking note of its deceiving heavier weight. He could hear the contents of a liquid sloshing from within the box.

"What is it?" Velvet asked as Markus brought the package inside.

"I'm not sure," Markus said, inspecting the box. He turned it over to reveal an envelope had been attached to the far side, with a small note adhered to the envelope itself. "'Markus,'" he began to read aloud, "'we received this last night via private courier. We didn't want to disturb you with it until this morning. Signed, Roy, Front Desk Relations.'"

Velvet eyed the package suspiciously. "Private courier? Who uses a private courier in this day?"

"Someone who wanted to get this here with discretion," Markus said, finding the sealed opening of the envelope. "Then again…"

"What are you thinking?"

Markus gave it a quick sniff, before sliding a thumb underneath the flap. "I think I already know from where this came." The envelope opened to a letter, while Velvet was quickly working on the box. She tipped the now open end onto the table, a bottle containing a golden liquid bouncing off its surface, with two folded pieces of cloth following.

Velvet took the larger cloth in her hands, unraveling it to reveal an elongated diamond made of a semi-sheer material, one half of it black, the other half while. Centered was a circle also divided into black and white, the halves occupying the space of their opposite. She unraveled the smaller, showing it to be the same. "What do you make of this?"

Markus inspected the cloth. He could only furrow his brow and shake his head as he reached for the letter. "Perhaps this could shed some light on this unexpected parcel." The letter itself was trifolded, heavier than paper, but smoother than parchment. Markus opened it, chuckling aloud as he read the first word.

"What?" Velvet asked as she attempted to see the letter.

Markus turned it around to show her. "I'll willing to wager you do not recognize this."

Velvet then saw the letter's content, discovering the words and characters to be incompressible. "What language is that?"

Markus turned the letter to himself. "It is Old Atlesian, a language that predates the formal recognition of kingdoms." He shook his head in disbelief. "I no longer have any doubt. He is of kin."

"Who?"

"Oran, in the village of Kansa." Markus brought his hand to his chin. "What is a Camaden doing so far south?"

"Perhaps it's in the letter," Velvet suggested. "What's it say?"

Markus cleared his throat.

* * *

 _Markus,_

 _I hope this letter and the accompanying package find you in good health, and in good time. I apologize if my sending of the parcel via a private courier brought any undue alarm or distress to you or any persons at Beacon. I was the only way I could assure a safe delivery of its contents directly to you, for reasons you have already, or soon will, discover._

 _First, I congratulate you on the successful execution of your mission, even though, at the penning of this, you have only been gone for one day. However, I know you will succeed in find the people you seek, as well as the perpetrators, for even your mere arrival has bore effects. And I will forever remember that day._

 _The morning had been unusually cold, and I feared that, with the White Fang's recent intrusion, the spirits of my people would be dampened, and attract Grimm. Then, around the noon hour, the wind blew from the west, blowing the warm air, and the resolve of your soul, with it. I could feel my people ease, and the day seemed to progress like nothing had happened._

 _Then you arrived. I do not think my grandson would have led his little band against you had he not been inspired. We have had more people on the road in the last day than the entire month, faces are brimming bright with hope, and we are trading again._

 _You have already done more for my people than I expected, and we find ourselves, again, out of balance. So, I bestow upon you two items to bring our equilibrium back into place. First, a bottle of mead, distilled in the traditional Camaden method, for the coming winter nights. No Camaden should be without at least one bottle._

 _Secondly, I noticed a distinct lack of a personal emblem upon which many students express their identities. I have asked Lilac to make this piece to be attached to your dogi, and I hope you will accept it. I found it to be fitting of your Justicar status, and as a keeper of balance. Feel free to modify it to your personal desire._

 _May Lady Destiny continue to light your path._

 _Oran_


End file.
